


Between Faithfulness and Fearfulness

by accrues, Erya



Series: Worthy and Forgiven Series [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blasphe-me, Chloe is a boss, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Galore, Lucifer has attachment issues, Lucifer has trust issues, M/M, Multi, Poor Dan x10000000, Slavery, Write slave fic, blasphe-everyone in this room, blasphe-you, dub-con, endless bus to sudden darkness, higher than canon levels of suicidal ideation, it’ll be fun, length: 100k, non-explicit self harm, originally set and written prior to season 2b, so canon compliance may vary, you said
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 105,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accrues/pseuds/accrues, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erya/pseuds/Erya
Summary: When Chloe is struck down by a fatal curse, Lucifer and Dan struggle to save her - through any means necessary. Sacrifices are made but will Lucifer’s friendships survive the changes he must undergo?





	1. Book One, Chapter One: Just a Normal Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the first installment of ‘Between Faithfulness and Fearfulness‘, sequel to ‘Worthy and Forgiven’! Thank you for all your amazing feedback and apologies for the delay! 
> 
> The tone is quite a departure from that of ‘Worthy and Forgiven’ but was a genuine blast to write. Please do mind the warnings for, amongst other things: torture, death, kink and general gratuitousness. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy reading ‘Between Faithfulness and Fearfulness'! All feedback is welcome (unless, of course, it is mostly sheer invective, in which case please, think of the children!) 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Erya & accrues

_‘There is a difference between loyalty and bondage. There is a difference between faithfulness and fearfulness. There is a difference between being devoted and being dominated. The difference is called freedom, and it is all the difference in the world.’ - Bryant McGill_

  
It all starts on a Thursday.  
  
It has been a normal day for Dan - or as normal a day as possible for a man demoted to what Lucifer cheerfully and loudly terms as ‘the department bottom’. The usual mix of grunt work and boredom, interspersed with coffee, Chloe, Lucifer (the actual Devil! Yeah, Dan's still _adjusting_ to that) randomly appearing and bothering him, and the sinking realisation that he's forgotten to pick up Trixie from school. Again.  
  
Chloe’s going to be pissed. Yeah, just another Thursday.  
  
By the time Dan darts into the school car park (all of forty minutes later and feeling the condemning glare of at least one straggling soccer mom burning into the back of his neck), the sky is overcast, spitting distinctly unseasonable rain, and Trixie - Trixie is _crying_.  
  
She’s sitting in the car - Chloe’s car - Chloe must have gone to pick Trix up when Dan proved himself yet again to be a disappointment as an (ex-)husband and father - and Chloe is-  
  
Passed out. Blonde head resting on the dashboard in middle the deserted car park, hair fanning out about her.  
  
Dan feels his heart wrench up into his throat. He races over to the car, knocks on the door urgently for Trixie to let him in. He gathers Chloe into his arms, frantically checking her airway and breathing, fumbling at her wrist for a pulse. Come on, _come on._  
  
It's there - thank God - but weak, thready.  
  
Trixie’s breath is hitching and tears run down her face. Dan chokes. ‘Monkey, call 911.’  
  
-  
  
The hospital is too bright, lights overhead harsh and biting. The room - Chloe’s room - is almost garishly cheerful, posters about smoking and birth control peeling gradually off the walls. Dan sits in the hard, plastic chair at Chloe’s bedside and feels numb.  
  
He'd tried to comfort Trixie, who, like him, had been worried sick, before calling Penelope to pick her up and take her home while Dan waits for the doctors to check Chloe out.  
  
The doctors had been at a loss.  
  
‘As far as we can see, Mr Espinoza, your wife - ex-wife, I'm sorry - is. Well. Fine.’ The doctor - a handsome Anglo-Indian man in his thirties who'd introduced himself as a Dr Apollyon - coughs delicately, knees gently brushing against his pristine white coat.  
  
Dan stares at him. ‘Fine?’ He echoes blankly.  
  
The doctor nods. ‘Yes. Physically in perfect condition. Labs spot on. Everything appears to be completely normal. Except, of course, for the fact she won’t awake.’  
  
Dan tenses. ‘What does that mean? How can she be normal? _She won’t wake up_.’  
  
Doctor Apollyon frowns. ‘I'm afraid we simply don't know at this stage. However, I assure you we will continue to run tests and keep you updated.’  
  
‘Right.’ Dan paces, scrubbing his hands along his face tiredly.  
  
Turning to leave, Apollyon pauses briefly at the door. ‘There’s one more thing. Is your wife a fan of botany?’  
  
Dan frowns. ‘Excuse me?’  
  
The doctor turns to regard him. ‘When the paramedics retrieved your wife from the car, they informed us that she was holding a most peculiar flower.’ The man reaches out, hand towards Dan, his face half in shadow. In his long, elegant hand lies a single flower, fragile, white petals half-crushed.  
  
Dan stares in confusion. ‘Botany? No, Chloe doesn’t care for flowers.’  
  
The man nods. ‘Of course. Well, all the best, Mr Espinoza. I'm very sorry for your misfortune.’ And with that, Dan is left alone with his ex-wife and his tangled thoughts.  
  
-  
  
Dan is on his fifth circuit of the small room when Lucifer arrives, out of breath and obviously worried. Dan belatedly realises he never called him. It wasn't a deliberate oversight - as much as it may seem so. Dan honestly cannot even recall the past few hours with any degree of clarity and is vaguely impressed he didn't crash on the way here.  
  
‘Hey,’ he says tiredly. ‘Sorry, I forgot to call, man.’  
  
Lucifer brushes past him, eyes fixed on Chloe. ‘What happened?’  
  
Dan sighs. ‘They don't know. I just found her like this in her car.’  
  
Lucifer hovers awkwardly at Chloe’s bedside. ‘And what, she’s just sleeping? Is that normal for you lot? I mean, I know you people sleep half your lives away - is this like hibernation? You know, with bears and whatnot?’  
  
Dan lets out a breath. One month ago Dan would have had the glorious luxury of ignorance and just assumed Lucifer was being a facetious ass (and most of the time, to be fair, he still _is_ being a facetious ass), but Dan’s also increasingly aware that the guy has only been on Earth for all of five years. That's literally less time than Trixie. Despite being present when mankind was created (allegedly) and torturing countless souls for ‘unimaginable aeons’ (also allegedly), the Devil, at times, seems to know surprisingly little about human beings and their basic care and sustenance.  
  
‘Yeah, no. Chloe’s not hibernating. This is not normal, Lucifer.’ He swallows, staring down at Chloe. A terrible thought abruptly hits him and he looks up at Lucifer sharply. ‘Hey, do you think it’s a side effect of the poison that landed her in hospital last time? Like, that guy’s soul didn’t give you the right dosage for the antidote or something?’  
  
‘I doubt it,’ Lucifer says, face hardening. ‘He was very… eager to please me.’  
  
Dan winces a little, but shakes his head, half-torn between relief and crushing worry. ‘I don’t know, it was a long shot.’  
  
‘Right,’ says Lucifer faintly. His hand has almost unconsciously drifted towards Chloe’s on the bedspread and he just looks lost. Dan looks away, throat uncomfortably tight.  
  
‘Look, um,’ Dan clears his throat uneasily. ‘They're monitoring her and doing some more tests. It's late, man, there's no point in just hanging around. Why don't you head on home?’  
  
Lucifer frowns, eyes still fixed on Chloe’s still face. ‘Home? Why? What about you?’  
  
Dan sighs and rubs his neck. ‘I'm going to stay for a few hours. I'll call if anything changes. No point us both staying awake all night.’ Seeing Lucifer’s unhappy look, and the way the man’s hands are gently, absently, hovering somewhere over Chloe’s knuckles, Dan softens. ‘Hey, man,’ he says as kindly as he's able. ‘Chloe would want you to go home and rest.’ He tries a smile. ‘You know Chloe - she'll probably be back on the job the moment she’s out from here, and she's gonna need her partner. And her- whatever you guys are now.’  
  
Lucifer looks unconvinced. Dan rubs his face. He never knows how to act around the guy any more. Things between them had changed when Dan wasn't looking. He almost misses their relationship last year, comprised as it largely was with insults and a sort of pseudo-rivalry.  
  
But after getting to know the guy, after Lucifer taking a bullet for Dan and saving his life - after learning the guy was the literal _Devil_ , and (worse) that Lucifer was painfully, obviously in love with Chloe? And (worse still) that she loved him back? He doesn't want to hurt either of them - and hurting him would hurt her. He especially doesn't want to sit (or pace) in this tiny little room for the next eight hours and watch Lucifer fall apart, the way Dan feels he too is inches away from. The guy is worryingly child-like at times and, like Trixie, Dan doesn't want to see him frightened and in pain. Not when Dan can barely cope himself.  
  
He leans against a wall, feeling tired to his bones. ‘Come on, Lucifer. Go home. It'll be fine. We can- if Chloe’s still here tomorrow- we can swap.’ He swallows. Please, God, let her be better tomorrow.  
  
But Lucifer isn't listening. His eyes are instead fixed on the bedside table and, as Dan watches, his face sharpens to something almost unrecognisable. His hand drifts towards the table top almost distractedly- towards the flower that lies there, half-crumpled and forgotten.  
  
When he speaks his voice sounds distant.  
  
‘Where did you get this?’  
  
Dan starts. ‘What, the flower? I don't know, man. The doctor said they found it on her.’ He frowns, confused. ‘Why? What is it?’  
  
Lucifer picks up the flower slowly, expression disbelieving. Then with abrupt, vicious rage he crushes it, eyes suddenly crimson in the darkened room.  
  
Dan flinches helplessly at his unexpected wrath, heart hammering in his chest. ‘Lucifer?’  
  
Lucifer turns to Dan, his face grim and half consumed by the dark.  
  
‘ _She’s not sleeping_.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how I said that this was nearly finished, er, approximately six months ago? Well! A funny thing happened on the way to the circus. Namely, this was nearly finished and then I, in my eternal grace and wisdom, thought tweaking it for canon compliance was somehow a good thing. And kept thinking it was a good thing until my long-suffering co-author threatened to visit bodily harm on my person (mild hyperbole that, but only mild) because it was _six months later_ and I was still dragging my heels.
> 
> Things I have learnt over the course of my life: 1) Never start a land war in Asia and 1) _never_ try to retro-fit a very, very, _very_ long fic to keep up with the events of canon. Just say no, kids. 
> 
> Thank you for all your incredible kind comments on 'Worthy and Forgiven' - and I'll hope you'll forgive this hapless author the delay!
> 
> ~Erya 
> 
> The best part of writing this story was finding screen-caps I’d made which just say ‘accrues to fix’. And coming up with tags. Hop on… the endless bus to darkness?
> 
> ~accrues


	2. The Orpheus Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer seeks help from an unlikely quarter and Dan receives some startling revelations as Chloe rests in the repose of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your wonderful comments! We hope you like the next bit!. :D
> 
> This chapter was originally written well before the events of season 2b before being adapted (curse you, canon).  
> Enjoy the ride! All feedback welcome. :D

 

Dan doesn’t know what is happening. Lucifer is _frantic_.  
  
One minute Lucifer is holding onto the crushed flower, the next he's darting about the room, roughly packing Chloe’s few belongings.  
  
Dan stares at him. ‘Lucifer, what are you doing?’  
  
‘Packing.’ Lucifer doesn't look up.  
  
Dan grits his teeth and forces himself not to snap. ‘I can see that. Why are you packing?’  
  
Lucifer flicks his gaze up and Dan very nearly takes a step back. His eyes are as black as night and almost frightening in the half-dark of the hospital.  
  
Lucifer’s voice is sharp. ‘Because she's not staying here.’  
  
Dan feels a wave of uncomfortable pity for Lucifer who is clearly struggling to accept Chloe being ill and acting out in his usual weird way. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks away. ‘Lucifer, Chloe’s sick. This is the right place for her. There are doctors here, monitors. She can’t leave.’  
  
Lucifer laughs bitterly. ‘They can’t do anything for her, Dan. Not here.’  
  
Dan frowns and shifts his weight uneasily from foot to foot. ‘What do you mean? Lucifer, they're still running tests. I know you don't seem to have much faith in humans but just- be patient. They just need time.’  
  
Lucifer scrubs at his face impatiently. ‘It's not a matter of faith, Dan, or time,’ he snaps. ‘This,’ he flicks his eyes down to the flower left discarded on the table, ‘is not a mortal complaint. Chloe isn't sick. This curse is not of this world.’  
  
Dan stares at him. ‘Curse?’ his eyes widen as he realises what Lucifer is saying. ‘Wait, you think someone- something- _did_ this to her?’  
  
Lucifer nods tightly. ‘That’s what I believe. We need to get her help.’  
  
Dan waves his hands furiously, voice taken on a hysterical note. ‘Where? Hogwarts? Who the hell can help her?’  
  
Lucifer grips the rails of Chloe’s bed tightly and stares down at her, face cast in shadow. ‘No one in hell.’  
  
-  
  
‘No, absolutely not.’  
  
Lucifer wheels around and glares at the slender form of his mother, body taut with rage and worry.  
  
‘Why the hell not? You did this to her, mother. Do not think I am unaware of that.’ He stalks towards her. ‘Well, you can bloody well help her!’  
  
The woman who is not Charlotte Richards perches on the stool in her office, elegantly swirling a glass of wine.  
  
Behind her stands Amenadiel, grave and uncharacteristically silent.  
  
On the chaise-lounge lies Chloe, eerily still in repose, Dan holding her hand and watching the confrontation between Devil and Goddess in tense anticipation. He is acutely aware that, save Chloe, he is easily the weakest person in the room, that ‘Charlotte’ or Amenadiel could - and possibly would - tear him apart as simply as breathing.  
  
After Lucifer’s revelation in the creeping silence of Chloe’s hospital room, Lucifer had remained suspiciously close-mouthed. Insisting that Dan distract the nurses, he had smuggled Chloe out to Dan’s car and then driven like a bat out of hell straight to - Charlotte Richards.  
  
Shark of a lawyer. Dan’s not-girlfriend who'd seduced him for information on Perry White and then double-crossed him without even a hint of compunction. Who, it transpires, is not an extremely hot, treacherous witch, but a literal goddess of all creation and Lucifer’s _mother_ .  
  
God, Dan had slept with a godess.  
  
God, Dan had slept with _Lucifer’s mother_ .  
  
Yeah, no. He's not thinking about that right now.  
  
No, what matters now is that Lucifer apparently believes his _mother_ has done this to Chloe, has ‘cursed’ her into this terrifying state.  
  
In the corner Amenadiel (Lucifer’s actual angelic brother) shifts uneasily. ‘Mother, if you can help Chloe-’  
  
‘But I can't, Amenadiel,’ says Charlotte.  
  
She raises an eyebrow in frustration. ‘And I have no idea why you think I'm responsible for this, Lucifer.’  
  
Lucifer scoffs loudly and bitterly. ‘Oh, I don’t know, could it be that you've tried to kill Chloe before? That you've done everything in your power to drive us apart?’  
  
‘She did what?’ snaps Dan, hand tightening around Chloe’s. He is utterly disregarded by everyone in the room.  
  
Charlotte sighs irritably. ‘Yes, but that was two months ago. I haven’t done anything to your Detective recently.’ She sniffs. ‘On the contrary, I could not be more delighted at how close the two of you have become.’  
  
Lucifer snarls in disbelief but Amenadiel is nodding. ‘It's true, Luci. Mother has-’ he pauses, ‘-accepted Chloe’s presence in your life now. She has no reason to harm her.’  
  
Lucifer shakes his head, highly skeptical. ‘And I'm just supposed to believe that, am I? Why would you,’ he waves a hand dismissively at his mother, ‘accept the Detective? Because you're suddenly such a good mother who's happy for me?’ His tone is scornful.  
  
Charlotte seems slightly stung by this. ‘No. Well, not just that at any rate, Lucifer. No, it's because-’  
  
Amenadiel coughs, suddenly stepping between Lucifer and his mother unsubtly.  
  
‘I'm sure Mom just means it's because she's happy for you, Luci.’  
  
Lucifer looks between the two of them suspiciously. ‘What aren't you telling me?’  
  
At Amenadiel’s unconvincing look of guilelessness, Lucifer snaps, ‘You're a terrible liar, big brother, you always have been. Now tell me or I swear I'll-’  
  
‘Do what?’ huffs Charlotte. ‘Flash your eyes at us?’ She turns on her barstool and regards him, eyes wide with apparent sincerity. ‘Of course, I'll tell you, Lucifer, but because you deserve to know.’ 

She stands, gracefully slipping into Lucifer’s space, hand not quite on his arm. ‘Lucifer. This is your Father's doing.’  
  
Lucifer freezes, eyes fixed on her face. ‘What?’  
  
Charlotte nods, beautiful face sympathetic. ‘It's obvious, son. Isn’t it?’ She shares a look with Amenadiel, who looks torn. ‘Your Father gave you his,’ she grimaces slightly, ‘miracle, given you time to- to _fall in love_ with the little human, and now he’s ripping her away.’

She sighs disapprovingly. ‘He always was capricious.’  
  
Lucifer is shaking his head in denial. ‘No. No. Why would he do that?’  
  
Charlotte smiles, looking almost unbearably kind. ‘To control you, son.’ Her voice is gentle and piercing. She shakes her head sorrowfully. ‘He's omniscient, Lucifer. He’s waited this long, while you found your feet around Chloe, and now he has his hooks into you.’  
  
Lucifer backs away from her, dark eyes large and back a rigid line. ‘No,’ he replies, before swallowing. ‘No.’  
  
Charlotte gives him a pitying smile before gently reaching up and stroking his cheek. ‘I'm so sorry, Lucifer,’ she says tenderly. ‘My beautiful boy, my Lightbringer. I know how hard you have struggled to be your own man. To live outside of his shadow. How much you've suffered for it.’ She runs her hand down his cheek as he stands frozen. ‘But it's the truth,’ she urges. ‘You know it is. He placed Chloe in your path, knowing that you would fall for her. And now,’ she pauses, staring into his eyes intensely, ‘now he plans to take her from you.’  
  
Dan stands, nauseated beyond belief at what he's hearing.  
  
‘You're saying _God_ did this to Chloe? Did this to get to Lucifer?’  
  
Something like irritation flashes across Charlotte's face as Lucifer suddenly withdraws and turns to Dan.  
  
Dan pauses at the expression on his friend’s face. Lucifer looks stricken, eyes wide and _wet_ . He stares at Dan, seeming helpless. ‘Dan, I-’  
  
Dan cuts him off, unable to deal with this right now. ‘Fine, okay, God did this, whatever.’ He takes a shaky breath. ‘How do we cure her?’  
  
There’s a long silence in the room. Lucifer turns to stare at his mother and brother, heart in his eyes.  
  
‘We can't.’ Charlotte’s voice echoes in the room.  
  
There’s an explosion immediately after. ‘You're joking,’ snaps Dan as Lucifer snarls, ‘What do you mean you bloody can't?’  
  
Charlotte looks mildly put out. ‘It means I'm the goddess of all creation stuck inside a puny human form, Lucifer. What makes you think I'm even capable of healing?’  
  
Lucifer stares at her. ‘But you have to!’ As she glances away, he steps urgently closer. ‘Mum, _please_.’  
  
She huffs. ‘I said I can't, Lucifer, not won't.’ She visibly softens. ‘Of course I would help you if I could, but it is no longer with my power.’ She crosses her arms, almost petulant. ‘You can thank your father for that.’  
  
Lucifer turns to his brother desperately. ‘Amenadiel, surely there's something you can do, come on,’ he bolsters up a shaky grin, wheedling. ‘The great and powerful Amenadiel, firstborn-’  
  
But Amenadiel is shaking his head. ‘I'm fallen, brother. And even if I wasn't, a curse such as this is strong. Even with my wings, I don't know if I would have been able to break it.’  
  
Dan looks between the three immortals helplessly before inspiration suddenly strikes. ‘Wings. Lucifer, you said before that your wings were able to save Amenadiel. Can't we use a feather or something?’  
  
Lucifer starts violently. By the mantle, Amenadiel looks away, countenance grim. Lucifer swallows, avoiding Dan’s eyes.  
  
Dan frowns at the sudden shift in the atmosphere in the room and tries to catch Lucifer’s gaze. ‘What?’  
  
Lucifer sighs before reluctantly answering, voice hoarse. ‘It might have worked.’ But at Dan opening his mouth in question, Lucifer interrupts. ‘But I cut them off, remember.’ His eyes flick to Dan before falling back to the floor. Reluctantly, he adds, ‘and burnt them.’  
  
There’s a moment of resounding silence. Dan nods curtly and looks away, throat tight. ‘Right.’  
  
He crosses his arms to prevent them from shaking. ‘So what's going to happen to Chloe?’ Unable to look at Chloe, he glares accusingly at the unearthly trio. ‘She's just going to _die_ ?’  
  
‘Yes,’ says Charlotte simply.  
  
‘No,’ snaps Lucifer.  
  
Amenadiel sighs while Charlotte casts Lucifer a puzzled but pitying look. ‘Lucifer, I know you're upset but you need to face-’  
  
Lucifer sets his jaw. ‘We'll find another way.’  
  
-  
  
They can’t find another way.  
  
Lucifer, Amenadiel, and their mother argue for what feel like hours while Dan sits mute and and largely forgotten by Chloe’s side.  
  
After the fourth circle of whether or not local leylines (whatever they were) could be used to generate enough power to recharge Amenadiel’s celestial batteries (as Dan envisions it) and after Lucifer storms out to the balcony to rant at the sky for ten minutes, they finally leave. Dan is heartsick, Lucifer furious beyond words.  
  
They head back to Chloe’s. Dan insists on laying her down on her bed, gently arranging her limbs. In her bedroom she looks like she could just be sleeping, that any moment she will open her eyes and smile at him like she used to during their ill-fated marriage.  
  
Dan sinks down on the bed beside her, gazing at her face. Lucifer is a silent shadow against the wall. Surrounded by the fixtures she had chosen for the apartment he looks lost and horribly young. Oh God, how is Dan going to tell Trixie? To take care of her alone?  
  
Dan eventually speaks, his voice cracked with disuse. ‘Do we even know what caused it? How - and I can't believe I'm saying this - _God_ made Chloe sick?’  
  
Silence falls in the room before at last Lucifer sighs and turns to Dan. He looks as exhausted as Dan feels.  
  
He unclenches his hand. In it lies the flower, crushed almost beyond recognition.  
  
He hands it to Dan who takes it, uncomprehending.  
  
Lucifer’s voice is quiet. ‘It's called an Orpheus flower.’  
  
Dan looks up at him.  
  
Lucifer’s eyes are dark, his expression sad and pensive. ‘It's named for a man who lived- well, a long time ago now. Greek. Nice enough chap, incredible musician. Did things with a lyre you wouldn’t believe.’ He pauses, his eyes drifting to Chloe. ‘And then he fell in love. Lovely girl. Kind, sweet, beautiful - the whole caboodle. They made a good couple, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.’ His eyes were distant, unwavering from Chloe’s face.  
  
‘But then she died. Wound up downstairs because of a youthful indiscretion. And he couldn't take it, so he decided to follow her. Made his way all the way into Hell, if you can believe it. So stupid it was almost brave.’ He smiles, lost in memories.  
  
‘And then I caught him.’ At Dan’s startled look, he grins wryly, a shadow of his usual cheer. ‘Not a big fan of trespassers, Daniel, just ask Alighieri. Anyway, so I nearly strung him up by the heels and had my fun but he was so-’ he huffs, ‘-him. So in love and, like I said, a revelation with a lyre. Well, there’s not much music in Hell and he practically had the voice of an angel - take it from me - so I made a deal and let him go. Even let him take her with. Thought Dad might look the other way just the once.’ He snorts.  
  
‘Wasn't a popular decision, I can tell you that. Anyway,’ he sighs deeply. ‘I told him- I _said_ to him, all he had to do was keeping walking until they were out, one foot in front of the other and don't look back, simple, right? But what did he do?’ He snorts. ‘Only bloody looked back. The portal closed, she got stuck with me and all of it was for nothing.’  
  
He falls silent. Dan clears his throat. ‘Good story, but what's that got to do with Chloe?’  
  
Lucifer snorts bitterly and nods curtly at the flower in Dan’s palm. ‘That thing's not just a pretty posey, Daniel. It only grows in Hell, on the banks of the river Lethe. They used to say it first sprung from his tears, all those years ago.’ He scoffs. ‘That’s utter nonsense, of course. Probably just some ridiculous infernal weed.’ 

He squints down at the crushed flower, its deceptively fragile white and lilac petals resting on his fingers, expression distant. ‘You know, there’s all sorts of stupid legends about it, Some even call it ‘the Resurrection flower’, claim it has these fantastic healing properties.’ His jaw tightens, ‘In older magicks though it can induce, well - oblivion.’

Dan’s gut clenches. ‘What’s that mean?’ His voice comes out hoarse.

Lucifer doesn’t look at him, just swallows and stares at the white petals grimly. Eventually he says, ‘It means - nothing, Dan.’ He swallows, eyes dark. ‘Nothing, ever again. No heaven, no hell. You just- stop. Forever.’     
  
The silence that follows is broken only by the ticking of the clock.  
  
Dan stares at Lucifer, numb. ‘So that's it? God- _God_ does this to Chloe because of you, to hurt you, and it's just game over? Chloe just _stops_? And there's nothing anyone can do?’

Before Lucifer can answer, the sound of a door slamming resounds through the air, making Dan jump. He startles back when he sees Maze enter, her face twisted in rage.  
  
‘What the _hell_ did he do to her?’ she snarls, glaring at Lucifer and prowling forward, utterly disregarding Dan.  
  
‘ _Don’t_ blame this on me. I hardly control my Father,’ Lucifer growls back, eyes bright with anger.  
  
‘Well, maybe if we’d gone back home, none of this would have happened,’ she snaps. She stalks towards Lucifer, jabbing him hard in the chest with a sharp-nailed finger. ‘You brought me into this, you made me ‘friends’,’ she bites out the word, ‘with this mortal, and now your daddy gets to take her away?’

She falters briefly, eyes wide and almost, Dan dazedly thinks, hurt, before snarling again and, just briefly, just for a flicker, Dan thinks he sees something _under_ her skin, like sinew, like _bone_ -  
  
‘Mazikeen,’ Lucifer says, tone dark with warning.

Maze ignores him, furious. ‘And you’re going to do what? _Nothing_ ?’  
  
Lucifer looks like he’s been punched in the gut. His jaw works for a moment, and he looks back and forth between Dan and Maze before finally resting on Chloe.

-

‘There’s just one more thing we haven't tried.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Orpheus Flower](http://wildflowereurope.org/bulgaria_blog/the-orpheus-flower) is a real thing! It grows in Bulgaria and possibly also Hell. 
> 
> ‘Between Faithfulness and Fearfulness’ (BFF for short) will be posted on Mondays and Wednesdays (Australian time), with accrues also posting her story, ‘The Silent Ten Year War’, on Fridays. 
> 
> ‘Between Faithfulness and Fearfulness’ and ‘The Silent Ten Year War’ can be read together or independently, with ‘The Silent Ten Year War’ tying in with this ‘verse as a sort of prequel set aeons in the past. It is an even darker tale influenced by the comics, with accrues’ wonderfully rich tone and prompted by a desire to give this fandom the dark!fic it deserves. Enjoy!


	3. For Better or For Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Dan make a decision they may live to regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus early chapter to celebrate the launch of accrues’ ‘The Silent Ten Year War’! (Shameless promotion of amazing co-author, ahoy! :P)
> 
> We hope you enjoy! All feedback joyfully accepted. :D

Lucifer’s _plan_ apparently involves Dan having a shower and ‘meditating’ (read: sitting in tense silence in a wet puddle on the floor, apparently) while Lucifer races back to Lux to fetch some stupid old book.

As Dan squelches resentfully out of the bathroom into the dark of Chloe’s bedroom, he catches the tail-end of what sounds like a truly vicious whispered altercation taking place in the adjoining living room.  
  
‘-insane! What the _hell_ makes you think any of this is even remotely a good idea?!’  
  
Maze, ninja-roommate-babysitter extraordinaire, sounds just as pissed as she did fifteen minutes ago. How Chloe hadn’t killed either herself or Maze yet is a constant mystery to Dan given how freaking aggravating he knows the goddamn demon can be. It's like Hell gives lessons on how to be a dick. They probably do, he reflects with what was probably just a hint of hysteria. Lucifer probably went. Hell, Lucifer probably _founded_ it.  
  
Distantly he's aware of Lucifer’s voice snapping back from the living room.  
  
‘-don't have a choice. It's the only way, Mazikeen, surely even you can see how bloody hopeless this situation is. You can help-’  
  
Dan starts at Chloe’s bedside as something crashes into the wall. It sounds like glass. He moves automatically towards the door only to be stopped by Maze’s snarl.  
  
‘If you think I'm just going to stand here and let you do this, you've got another thing coming!’ There’s a moment of silence then, with what Dan thinks is uncharacteristic bitterness, ‘I'm done- I'm just - you go run back to Vegas or screw up your life, do whatever. I don't care. I'm _done_ .’  
  
Dan winces as the door slams shut, shaking the very walls.    
  
Well. That sounds ominous.  
  
From what he’s caught of the conversation (it’s not eavesdropping if you’re a cop and it’s your ex-wife’s place, okay?), whatever plan Lucifer has concocted, Maze is deadset against it.

Given that Maze seems to be up for pretty much anything, providing it involves death, sex or general mayhem, what could be so bad that even _she_ isn't game? Dan swallows, grey eyes flicking almost helplessly towards Chloe, lying so still and unnaturally quiet in the bed. He squares his shoulders. Doesn't matter. Whatever it is it'll be worth it.  
  
After a moment he hears a quiet click of the door and the purr of Lucifer’s motor starting up in the driveway. Dan's alone.  
  
Right. Meditating. He can do that. He frowns, and takes a seat on the ground, crossing his legs gingerly.

Meditating. Got it. 

How hard can it be?  
  
-  
  
It’s harder than it looks.  
  
-  
  
By the time Lucifer returns to Chloe’s bedroom, Dan is just about ready to blow a gasket. So much for meditation. He watches Lucifer as the man darts to Chloe’s bedside table and sits down without so much as a glance at the other occupants in the room.  
  
Lucifer’s movements can best be described as frenetic, his face grim as he flicks rapidly through the yellowing pages. Finally, he stops, long-fingered hand hovering, almost tremulously over a page towards the very back. He is silent for a long time.  
  
Dan stands with a growl and moves to loom beside him. ‘Where’s Maze?’ he asks, voice a tad sharper than he intended.  
  
Lucifer doesn't look up for a moment, face pale and drawn, eyes fixed at a spot slightly above the text. Then he sighs, and scrapes a hand carelessly through his lengthening stubble. ‘She’s gone off in one of her huffs, probably to bother my brother. We… disagreed on methods.’ He looks back down at the page, eyes distant. ‘Perhaps she was right.’  
  
Dan’s heart rate ratchets up. ‘What? No good?’  
  
Lucifer finally looks at him, slow and reluctant. ‘No,’ he says. At what must be Dan’s despairing expression he hurries on quickly, almost stumbling over the words. ‘I mean, yes. It'll work. Should work. But no, not ‘good’, not by any stretch of the word.’  
  
Dan nods uncomprehendingly, mind still stuck on ‘it'll work’, a horrible hope - that thing about feathers - filling his heart. ‘How?’  
  
Lucifer swallows, staring up at Dan from his place bent over Chloe’s bedside table. He looks, notes Dan distantly, awful. Pale and drawn, spidery fingers tapping nervously on dark stained wood.  
  
‘You're not going to like it,’ he warns. Then he snorts, looking away only for his eyes to fall on Chloe and remain there, captive. ‘Though if it's any consolation, I'll like it even less.’  
  
Dan frowns, crossing his arms defensively, freezing in his wet shirt in the middle of the night.  
  
‘I don’t care,’ he retorts bluntly. ‘Whatever it is, if it saves Chloe I'm game. I’ll do anything.’ He hesitates. ‘It will save her, right?’  
  
Lucifer nods, face in shadow. ‘Yes.’ His dark eyes flick up to Dan, the expression on his face unfamiliar and almost cold. ‘You should be careful making blanket vows like that, Daniel,’ he observes.  
  
‘You have no idea what I could be asking of you.’ He smiles tightly and shakes his head. ‘‘Anything’,’ he mimics, voice brittle. ‘Do you have even the first clue of what that could encompass? The sorts of hellish torments, the pain someone could visit on you with that kind of ridiculous promise?’ He stares at Dan almost disbelieving, something strange and terrible in his eyes. ‘You have no idea what it is to be at someone’s mercy.’  
  
Dan shifts uneasily but holds his ground. ‘No, I don't,’ he admits. ‘But I do trust you.’ He lets his arms fall by his sides and leans over the table towards Lucifer, holding his gaze intensely. ‘I know you would never do anything-’ he hesitates, ‘-evil,’ he finishes. ‘Anything to hurt Chloe- or me,’ he adds almost as an afterthought.  
  
Lucifer stares at him for a moment as though lost for words before looking away.  
  
‘Alright,’ he says at last, eyes falling on Chloe’s bed. ‘Alright. Let's do this thing.’  
  
-  
  
‘This thing’ apparently involves _burning the curse out of Chloe’s body_ .  
  
Now Dan isn't exactly completely _au fait_ with all the mystical mumbo jumbo that's suddenly infiltrated his life but that _sounds_ dangerous.  
  
‘Are you _sure_ it won't hurt her?’  
  
Lucifer sighs deeply, as he had the five other times Dan had asked this question.  
  
‘It will be fine,’ he repeats in a tone he probably considers patient and not patronising, which is closer to how it actually comes off. ‘So long as we put in the-’ he pauses, looking just a bit shifty, ‘proper checks and balances, there's no reason why it should hurt her.’  
  
‘Right,’ says Dan skeptically. ‘So you ‘unleash’ your - and I can't believe I'm saying this - god-given angelic superpower and bam, Chloe’s cured?’  
  
‘Yes,’ says Lucifer, looking cross. ‘And it's not a bloody superpower, alright? It's a part of me. A long subdued, generally shut down never-to-be-used part of me, yes, but a natural part of the very fabric of my being. Not the product of a flipping radioactive spider.’  
  
‘Sure,’ agrees Dan, profoundly sarcastic and deciding to ignore the slight to his favourite childhood hero. ‘Because in the beginning God said ‘Let there be light!’ and you _lit the stars_ . Because that's a thing that happened in my life now.’  
  
Lucifer casts him an unfriendly look. Dan counts it as progress that he no longer feels even a hint of alarm that the Devil is glaring at him, when a month ago he would have at least edged away, if not subtly fled the room. Yeah, ‘progress’.  
  
Lucifer heaves a severely put upon sigh and stretches his arms above his head like an athlete preparing to chuck a shot put.  
  
Dan squints at him. ‘So where do I come in?’  
  
Lucifer gives him an insincere smile that doesn't reach his eyes. ‘Checks and balances,’ he repeats cryptically.  
  
Oh, because that's helpful. Dan grits his teeth. ‘Want to elaborate there, buddy?’  
  
Lucifer looks evasive, gaze flitting from the ceiling, to the book, to Chloe and back again. He seems profoundly dodgy and Dan doesn’t like it one bit.  
  
He crosses his arms and steps into Lucifer’s space, drawing the man's reluctant gaze. ‘What.’  
  
Lucifer swallows. He looks unaccountably nervous and Dan tenses in response. Lucifer licks his lips. ‘As you said, Daniel - there is a risk that the might of my power could indeed harm Chloe if not held appropriately in check. I can't do that - unleashing such a long-contained part of me will be-’ he pauses, ‘-distracting.’ He finishes, face surprisingly and unsettlingly sombre.  
  
He sighs as he reluctantly continues. ‘I haven’t used it since I left Hell and there is a possibility I won't be able to- ‘put it away again’, for lack of a better term. That I could end up losing myself to it and accidentally incinerate the Detective and-’ he considers, ‘-probably a decent-ish chunk of greater Los Angeles while I'm at it.’  
  
Dan stares at him. ‘Right,’ he says faintly. ‘That sounds bad. Let's not do that.’  
  
Lucifer nods. ‘My plan exactly, as I appear to have become rather attached to the Detective and this funny little city of yours. And I suppose, now that I think about it, I don’t particularly want you dead in a pile of ashes either,’ he adds as an afterthought.  
  
‘Thanks,’ says Dan, only half joking.  
  
But Lucifer isn't listening, instead looking at the ugly hardbound book with an expression not unlike dread. ‘Which is where you come in.’  
  
Dan frowns, leaning his hip against the table. ‘Me? How?’  
  
Lucifer swallows. ‘I need someone - anyone would do - to help me control the Light I bring forth and help me pop it back where it belongs.’  
  
Dan nods dubiously. ‘Okay, so why me?’  
  
Lucifer waves his beringed hand in a movement that is probably supposed to be cavalier but instead just seems slightly shaky. Dan tracks it with his eyes. ‘No reason. You're convenient, as the only other person awake in the room at the moment. I would normally use Maze for a good bit of spellwork, but she’s a demon. Not that there's anything wrong with that,’ he amends hastily, as though she might appear suddenly around the corner and stab him. Which, Dan thinks dryly, given she’s a terrifying ninja from Hell, she might.  
  
‘But,’ continues Lucifer an edge in his voice, ‘she is inherently a creature of darkness. Let's just say her true self and my Light wouldn't exactly react well to each other.’  
  
Dan nods. ‘What about your brother? Won't he be better at the whole holding the Devil in check schtick?’  
  
Lucifer grimaces. ‘He's fallen now, he wouldn't necessarily be any better at it than the average, pathetic Bob or Joe - or Dan - in the street. And before you ask,’ he says sharply, catching the look on Dan’s face. ‘No. We're not using my Mum. Just - no.’  
  
He seems unwilling to go into it further so Dan just sighs and nods reluctantly. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘So what do I have to do?’  
  
-  
  
‘Oh _hell_ no.’  
  
Lucifer sighs deeply. ‘You haven’t even let me explain yet!’  
  
Dan waves his hands furiously. ‘You don't need to! You want us to-’ he casts a look at the sleeping Chloe and drops his voice unconsciously, ‘-get _married_ !’  
  
Lucifer looks incredibly irritated. ‘That is _not_ what I said. I _said_ we would need to establish a Bond.’  
  
‘Right,’ spits Dan. ‘A permanent bond, you said, tying us together for eternity. That sounds awfully like marriage to me.’  
  
Lucifer drags both of his hands across his face and hair agitatedly, leaving black curls is disarray. Actually notes Dan absently, for him he really does look incredibly disheveled, white shirt untucked, cuffs rolled up to his elbows, vest gaping open. He looks like a wreck. Good, Dan thinks savagely, at least Dan isn't the only one suffering here.  
  
‘It's not a marriage, Daniel,’ Lucifer snaps.  
  
‘No?’ queries Dan, challengingly.  
  
‘No,’ sighs Lucifer. Then he smiles tightly, brittle. ‘Though if it had been, would you really draw the line there? Just let the Detective fade away into oblivion to protect your pride? Let Chloe die rather than become the Devil’s bride?’  
  
Dan places his hands on his hips and shifts his weight angrily. ‘No,’ he says at last. ‘No. I'd do it. If that was the only choice, of course I'd do it.’  
  
Lucifer nods, strangely looking less satisfied than depressed. ‘Because you're a good man,’ he says, tone slightly disbelieving.  
  
Dan sighs. ‘Because I love her,’ he corrects, painfully. ‘Even now that she’s-’ he gestures at Lucifer.  
  
Lucifer makes eye contact before swallowing. After a short pause he says, voice soft, ‘It's not like marriage. It's - worse.’  
  
Dan frowns. ‘How can it be worse?’  
  
Lucifer’s eyes flick up to meet Dan’s, looking tired. ‘Think of it as more like slavery.’  
  
Dan stares at him, shocked. He feels his heart start thumping rapidly. ‘Slavery,’ he repeats. He swallows and backs away, hand coming up to rub nervously at his mouth. ‘No. Oh hell no.’ He laughs, a little too high-pitched as Lucifer watches, eyes dark, completely still in the quiet of the room. He points a hand at Lucifer accusingly. ‘I'm not going to be your slave. Not on your life.’  
  
And Lucifer, Lucifer _smiles_ at this for some reason, the curve of his mouth thin and bitter, tilting his head as though amused. ‘No? And what about on Chloe’s life, Dan?’ His tone is sharp, needling, and Dan freezes, helpless, left stunned and wordless.  
  
The silence draws on until Lucifer snorts and turns away, walking to Chloe’s side. ‘So much for trust.’  
  
Dan swallows convulsively and clenches his fists, before opening his mouth to answer - _what_ he doesn't know, when Lucifer turns back to him. ‘But you needn’t worry.’ Lucifer waves a lazy hand between them. ‘It's more like the other way around.’  
  
Dan starts. ‘The other way-? Oh,’ he hesitates, unsure. ‘You mean _you_ would be-’  
  
‘Your slave, yes.’ Lucifer’s voice is flat, deadened, face utterly unreadable.  
  
Dan stares at him, mind completely blank. After a moment Lucifer expels a short breath, obviously deciding he'd broken him. ‘You'll understand now why this is a last resort. I wouldn't do this if there was any other way, any at all - but this,’ he swallows tightly, ‘seems to be the only means we have to awaken the Detective without incinerating her so,’ he snorts, ‘needs must.’  
  
‘That’s what Maze was so against,’ Dan realises. At Lucifer’s raised eyebrow Dan huffs, a little defensive. ‘Yeah, okay. I heard you two fighting. You weren’t exactly quiet.’  
  
‘Maze,’ Lucifer says dryly, ‘is a firm believer in the natural order of things. This, yours truly,’ he sweeps a hand to encompass himself, ‘the magnificent and, let’s be honest here, frankly stunning Lord of Hell as was, being bound to the will of you,’ he jerks an uncomplimentary hand towards Dan, ‘a boring unspeakably average little man - well. It’s all but unthinkable, isn’t it? You can’t blame her for objecting.’

Dan, distantly irritated by the slights, glares back at him half-heartedly.

His mind is turning, trying desperately to make sense of the whole situation, to comprehend what on earth (and heaven and hell) Lucifer is telling him about this ‘plan’, but instead his thoughts snag on _Chloe_ lost in her unearthly sleep.

His eyes fall to her, caught on the slow rise and fall of her chest under the blue coverlet. God, he misses her. The irony is that what he wants to do now more than ever is to call her, to hold her again and ask her what he should do. She was always the smart one, she always knew what was the right thing to do. But he can’t ask her, and, if they don’t do something soon, he may never hear her voice or see her smile ever again.  

His eyes burn and after a moment, he nods as, for better or worse, he makes his decision.

‘What do we have to do?’


	4. Lucifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Dan attempt to break the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your amazing comments! We’re so delighted you enjoyed the fic thus far and hope you enjoy the next chapter! :D
> 
> Apologies for the slight delay - late work shifts are the devil. :P
> 
> Warnings for angst galore and pseudo-magic. 
> 
> All feedback adored. <3

 

In the end it's all rather anticlimactic.

Lucifer flicks through his ugly little book and points out the relevant verses to an increasingly uncaring Dan before commanding him to fetch a glass of water, a fire extinguisher and a pair of sunglasses - in that order. Dan returns not five minutes later, feeling like a profound idiot clutching Chloe’s fire extinguisher (not used since the Great Toast Incident of ‘14) and Trixie’s favourite sparkly pink shades, only to find Lucifer busily raiding Chloe’s kitchen.

Dan watches in drained bafflement as Lucifer yanks cupboards open, muttering to himself and gathering, seemingly at random, cloves, nutmeg, and thyme. That done, Lucifer pauses, eying his collection in tense silence. After a moment, he seems to to reach a decision with himself and produces a truly hideous plant, a _mandrake_ (apparently) from _somewhere_ in his pants.

Lastly, and with a grimace of disgust, he grabs the accursed flower that started this whole mess. He carefully sets a few petals aside, before proceeding to crush the remnants together with vicious abandon and dumping them in Chloe's mom’s best china.  
  
‘Ingredients’ prepared he turns to Dan, who, under Lucifer’s unsettlingly penetrating stare, awkwardly sets down the fire extinguisher

Dan swallows uneasily. The atmosphere in the room feels claustrophobic, like the horrible fraught pause after a fight with Chlo or the unbearable beat of time before a life-changing error.

Like that forever indelible second before he pulled the trigger on Malcolm Graham.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, Lucifer proceeds to grab Dan’s hand and sink to his knees, his great height suddenly diminished.  
  
Dan stares down at him, feeling powerless. In the middle of Chloe’s darkened kitchen, harsh golden light occasionally slitting through the gaps in Chloe’s blinds, Lucifer looks dark and unknowable, completely unfamiliar. He also looks coldly furious.  
  
Dan swallows. ‘Right,’ he croaks. ‘Going to propose?’ He tries a shaky grin in an attempt to defuse the tension. Lucifer just snorts bitterly and holds Dan's hand like it's a dead fish. ‘I will incant the spell and wait for it to settle.’  
  
Dan nods automatically, still wrapping his head around the words ‘incant’ and ‘spell’. ‘And what do I do?’  
  
Lucifer scoffs shortly. ‘ _You_ will stand there and try not to douche it up.’  
  
Dan can’t help it, he laughs briefly, nervous tension somersaulting his stomach. ‘You gonna keep talking to me like that once you do this thing?’ He grins weakly, expecting one of Lucifer’s sarcastic jokes in return, but if anything Lucifer’s mouth flattens further.  
  
He looks up at Dan, face pale and tight. ‘I'll speak to you any way you like.’  
  
Dan stares down at him, taken aback. Before he can even begin to form a reply, Lucifer, the literal Devil incarnate, adjusts his grip on Dan’s hand and says something completely unintelligible in a rough, harsh language the like of which Dan has never heard before.  
  
It takes several minutes. Dan staring down into Lucifer’s - his friend's - dark eyes and unreadable face, as Lucifer chants and chants. There’s a refrain in there somewhere, thinks Dan distantly, some phrase he keeps repeating over and over again, but with more emphasis, a deeper timbre to his voice each time. His eyes bore into Dan, his grip becoming almost painful, knuckles ghostly white in the dark of Chloe’s kitchen.  
  
As Dan watches him silently, he feels a strange _presence_  in the room, a heaviness to the air that Dan doesn’t think was there previously. As Lucifer’s voices rises, almost to a shout, the light in the kitchen noticeably flickers, casting in the room in complete darkness before coming on brighter than ever before, almost, for an instant, blazing.

  
And then it's over.

 

Lucifer falls silent and Dan feels - just the same. Untouched. Heart in his mouth, he stares down at his friend who looks back, impassive.  
  
Dan frowns, Lucifer is still kneeling - is there still more to the _spell_ to go? Then Lucifer, back ramrod straight, on his knees on Chloe’s dusty kitchen floor, bites out, voice sharp, ‘May I stand?’  
  
His face looks tightly closed off, but his hand, normally pleasantly warm, feels clammy on Dan’s. Dan starts, confused. ‘Yeah, of course!’ he blurts out.  
  
Lucifer rises slowly, almost swaying. He looks exhausted. As he stands he drops Dan’s hand.  
  
Dan clears his throat uneasily. ‘So, um, that's it?’  
  
Lucifer nods, eyes averted, cast on the floor for some reason. ‘For now.’ He doesn’t seem willing to elaborate.  
  
Dan rubs his mouth wearily. Well, at least that's done with.

‘What do we do next?’ He feels strangely alone, isolated in the middle of Chloe’s kitchen. He wishes Lucifer would look at him.  
  
Lucifer flicks his gaze up to meet Dan’s eyes briefly, before clearing his throat.

‘This way.’

-

The second step, Lucifer had informed him earlier, would be much more dangerous.  
  
At his behest, Dan slides on Trixie's sunglasses, wincing as they pinched horribly at his ears and nose. The fire extinguisher - as a precaution - is ready at his feet.  
  
Lucifer is kneeling again, this time beside Chloe’s bed, his hand around hers. He had, recalls Dan, looked at Dan strangely before doing so, as though awaiting permission. Dan had just nodded weakly and that had been that.  
  
Lucifer’s face is composed, eyes shut in apparent concentration. When he speaks his voice is loud in the stillness of the room. ‘May I go through the procedure?’  
  
Dan doesn’t like the word ‘procedure’. It makes it sound like Chloe needs surgery, which, he supposes grimly, she does. ‘Yeah, thanks.’  
  
Lucifer carries on as if he hadn't heard Dan’s reply. ‘I'll start by searching out where the curse has taken root. Likely the heart. When I have found it, I will need you to make physical contact with me, please. Take my hand or shoulder, if you wish. I will release my power. You will need to restrain it, if you wish to prevent the decimation of this city.’ His voice is curt, factual and oddly diffident.  
  
Dan bites his lip. ‘Right. And how do I ‘restrain’ it?’  
  
Lucifer opens his eyes, staring down at the bedspread. ‘An order should suffice.’  
  
He closes his eyes again, face neutral. ‘May I begin?’  
  
Dan swallows nervously, hands clenching around the fire extinguisher handle. ‘Yeah.’  
  
Nothing happens at first, as far as Dan can tell. But then - warmth. Dan can feel it, _inside_ him, licking up his chest, his heart, warming him from inside out. It feels pleasant and reassuring, like a piping mug of hot chocolate or seeing Chloe and Trixie after a long absence. Like home.  
  
Lucifer is still kneeling, but his face has tightened almost as though in pain, eyes scrunched up. Abruptly he gasps and his eyes fly open.  
  
‘Lucifer?’ asks Dan, heart thumping.  
  
‘I've found it.’ Lucifer’s voice is tight. ‘It's in her heart. Please, I need you to come and help restrain me.’ His hand is shaking badly around Chloe's.  
  
Dan drops the extinguisher and moves quickly to them. Once beside Lucifer, he freezes, hand uselessly hovering above the man's shoulder.  
  
Lucifer’s face is streaked with sweat, his shirt and vest soaked and clinging to his skin, and he's panting. Apparently sensing Dan’s hesitation he almost breathes, ‘Daniel. _Please_ .’  
  
Dan's hand clamps down on Lucifer’s shoulder and suddenly the whole world is ablaze.  
  
-  
  
It's like standing at the centre of an inferno, white light blazing everywhere, all but blinding him, fire licking out to touch his chest, his hands. Dan flinches automatically away but all he feels when the light embraces him, gently, almost playfully, is a pleasant warmth, reassuring and loving and somehow joyful.  
  
And beyond it, just visible, is the form of Chloe, still and beautiful, pale hair almost blurring into the light.

Dan stares at her. She’s _glowing_ all over, nowhere near as bright as the light emanating beside Dan, but incredible nonetheless. The brightest spots appear to be in her chest and her head, gently blazing and banking like embers. Then, with an abrupt bolt of unease, he notices there is something wrong. Something dark and creeping is curling about her heart, surrounding and suffocating it.  
  
He nearly cries out in horror but with a start Dan notices a bright tendril of pure, white light coming from beside him, slowly reaching out and encompassing, almost caressing Chloe’s heart. He traces it back with his eyes only to stare in shock at the tower of white fire blazing beside him, gradually making out not so much a body or features but an _intent_ , warm and soothing and abruptly familiar.  
  
_Lucifer_.

Dan never knew how apt that name was.  
  
As Dan watches, enchanted and a little bit awed, the light, _Lucifer’s_ light, seems to eat away at the shadow (the curse?), dispersing it until not even a flicker of dark remains. Dan feels a wave of relief wash over him. Is that it? Is it over?  
  
But as he watches, something goes wrong. Lucifer's light is still shining but it's so bright, burning almost out of control, fluctuating wildly. Offshoots, spiralling tendrils of light are flying everywhere, darting around the room and the tower that is Lucifer is growing, almost enormous, spreading up to the roof, branching out towards Chloe and to Dan’s horror, beginning to lick her side like fire to kindling.  
  
Before Dan is even aware of it he yelps, ‘ _Stop_ !’  
  
And the fire just _stops_ .  
  
One minute it seems out of control, dispersing madly, the next the tendrils gradually retract as though embarrassed, repentant, sneaking back to the tower that is Dan’s friend, which is itself, even as Dan watches, banking.  
  
And then with a gasp and an almost palpable _thud_ the world yanks back into place and Dan sucks in a sharp breath, blinking in the sudden pitch darkness.

-  
  
As he comes to, he gradually becomes aware of Lucifer a foot away, lying flat on his back on the carpet and panting as though he had just run a marathon.  
  
Dan hunches over, holding desperately onto his knees to stay upright. ‘Oh my god.’  
  
He half-expects to hear Lucifer’s typical whine at his blasphemy, but Lucifer just lies there, gasping, eyes tightly shut. He looks completely wrecked, face flushed, shirt drenched in sweat.

Dan hesitates then stumbles to the bedside table and fetches the glass of water. As he does so, he stops, gaze arrested by the sight of Chloe, resting peacefully in the bed. Is it just him or does she look brighter, pinker in the cheeks and perhaps, just perhaps, a little golden on the edges?

Without turning around, he says, wound tight with hope, ‘Chloe. Did it work?’

Lucifer’s voice is a brittle rasp as he replies from behind and below Dan, ‘Yes.’

Dan feels his knees go weak with relief and he turns around, water forgotten, to grin at Lucifer, bright and foolish.

‘Oh my god, man, you-’ He stops, startled by his friend’s appearance. Lucifer looks like he is in agony, face turned away but distinctly pained, breaths coming in gasps.

‘Hey,’ says Dan in alarm, and shakily crouches down next to him. ‘Are you okay?’

Lucifer's eyes jerk open and he gazes as though shell-shocked at the ceiling. ‘Yes,’ he gasps out, before amending, ‘I think so.’  
  
Relieved, Dan pats him on the shoulder, ignoring the man’s weird flinch.  
  
‘That was,’ he pauses, lost for words, before finally blurting with an incredulous half-laugh, ‘that was - really something, you know that?’  
  
Lucifer nods almost against his will. Dan squeezes his shoulder impulsively, oddly unwilling to let go.

‘Chloe,’ he says hopefully. ‘She’ll really be okay?’ He casts a glance at her. She's still asleep on the bed but Dan could _swear_ that something still feels different, as though she were more peaceful, her breaths coming more naturally.  
  
Lucifer nods again. ‘Yes, she should be fine now. She'll sleep for a little while longer and then it will be like it never even happened for her.’  
  
Dan grins, relieved beyond words. ‘That’s amazing. Thank God.’ Then he frowns, ‘Or not God. Wow.’ He shakes his head and regards Lucifer who is still staring at the ceiling. Lucifer, who apparently has secretly been a literal towering inferno this whole time. Who knew?  
  
Dan smiles, still giddy with joy and relief. ‘Hey, good job, man. I mean it. Thank you, just, that was - incredible.’

Lucifer’s gaze flicks to Dan before quickly darting away. He nods once, tightly. ‘Thank you.’  
  
Dan sits back on the floor and stretches his legs, resting on splayed hands behind his back. ‘Wow.’ He shakes his head emphatically. ‘Hey, you want some water?’  
  
Lucifer swallows and nods. ‘Yes. Thank you.’  
  
Dan passes him the glass and frowns as, for the first time he registers for the weird, stilted manner in which Lucifer is speaking, the way his fingers all but flinch away from Dan's on the glass.  
  
‘Hey,’ he says, concerned. ‘What's wrong?’

 

But Lucifer doesn’t even look at him. He glares up at the ceiling for a long, furious moment, before choking out, as though the very words were torn from him, ‘ _Everything_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember reading an amazing fic about a year ago in the Lucifer fandom where angels all exist as giant towers of flame. I absolutely loved that fic and I suspect some of that imagery has likely influenced this chapter - thank you to that amazing writer! :D


	5. Comfort Food and Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dan and Lucifer cautiously explore their new dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments! :D 
> 
> Gentle reminder that warnings for this fic include: slavery (magical), violence, suicidal ideation, torture, kink and general gratuitousness (with more specific warnings listed as the plot unfolds). It will frequently be fairly dark, especially in the first few chapters, but with an eventual happy ending and a fair bit of humour, hurt/comfort and fluff along the way. If any of those warnings are likely to be uncomfortable or triggering for you, please be careful and perhaps avoid this one fic. :)
> 
> Otherwise, we hope you enjoy the next bit! :D

 After Lucifer’s pained declaration there is a moment of taut silence, with Dan staring at him with expression Lucifer had previously dubbed his ‘stunned mullet’ face.

‘What do you mean ‘everything’?’ Dan asks in confusion and worry. His first thought is Chloe, but, looking over to her, she seems to be resting as comfortably as she was just a moment ago.

He looks back at Lucifer, taking in the closed set of his features, the dark eyes glaring up at the ceiling as thought it had personally betrayed him and, belatedly, a light bulb stutters on his mind. ‘Shit, is this about the - the binding thing?’

And Lucifer, who Dan expects would normally smirk at him condescendingly and cast a derisive remark his way, avoids his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he says curtly. He slowly sits up, eyeing Dan out of the corner of his eye as though Dan was a cobra fully capable of striking at any moment.

Dan stares at him, the relief he had been basking in just moments ago transforming into a sense of creeping unease.

‘What’s the deal with that, anyway?’ he asks tentatively.

Lucifer doesn’t answer immediately. He appears to be struggling with himself, jaw tight and body tense. He also looks murderous and inches away from what Dan terms his ‘pant-wetting Devil face’.

‘Er, you know what?’ Dan interjects quickly. ‘Let’s grab a drink first before we get into it.’ He smiles cautiously. ‘I think I’m going to need something - probably with liquor - and I reckon you might too.’

Lucifer nods, looking, for a moment, almost relieved, before following Dan’s lead and moving to stand. Dan offers him a hand up, which after an awkwardly drawn out pause, Lucifer grudgingly accepts.

Ignoring Lucifer’s eerie silence and feeling the weight of his gaze prickling hotly on the back of Dan’s neck, Dan stumbles towards the Chloe’s kitchen and the alcohol he dearly hopes resides there.

-

  
Dan rifles through Chloe’s (well stocked, unlike his) cupboards, aware of Lucifer standing a good two feet away watching him with what he probably thinks is subtle covertness. The silence feels oppressive and Dan desperately wishes Lucifer would just say _something_ , even goddamn insult him if it would help clear the air a bit.

He clears his throat awkwardly and stares down at the unopened tin in his hands. Hot chocolate. The same brand he used to make for Trixie to help her sleep when they all still lived together as one happy family just a few years ago now. He shakes his head wryly. He must have gravitated towards it out of an automatic need for comfort food. Well, it’s definitely better than nothing and Dan can really do with something familiar right about now.

As he turns to fetch the pan, he nearly jumps a foot in the air as he abruptly comes face to face to Lucifer, somehow right in front of him like a freaking ninja.

‘Jesus Chr- I mean,’ he stares at Lucifer who looks almost as startled as he does. ‘What’s wrong?’

Lucifer looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. ‘I should do that for you.’ He gestures roughly at the saucepan.  
  
Dan squints at him, utterly baffled. ‘Nah, I can handle it, man. Go sit down, you look awful.’  
  
He frowns, confused, as Lucifer almost flinches at that before stalking over to one of Chloe’s white bar-stools and sinking down onto it, head dropping into his hands.  
  
In a silence that feels tenuous to Dan, he pours out their cocoa and and hunts down the bottle of whiskey he knew Chloe must have hidden away in the pantry behind the fruit loops. (Trixie _hates_ fruit loops and would never deign to check there, whereas Maze, for some unholy reason, seems convinced that whiskied loops are practically the food of gods. Or demons. Whatever.)  
  
He tilts the bottle towards Lucifer who reluctantly glances up. ‘Want some?’  
  
Lucifer looks away and says tonelessly. ‘Yes, please.’  
  
Dan raises an eyebrow at his manners and pours a more than generous amount into his hot chocolate. ‘Well, aren’t you polite today.’ He’s aiming for cautious teasing, but from the way Lucifer’s face closes off _even more_ he'd say he misses by a good mile or so.

Dan sits slowly on the other side of the island bench and licks his lips. ‘So, um,’ he broaches. ‘This bonding thing. Tell me about it,’ He hunches over a bit trying to meet Lucifer’s eyes as he warms his hands on his hot ceramic mug.  
  
Lucifer casts him a look that somehow sits on the boundary between neutral and contemptuous. ‘It's a spell designed to link one soul to another.’  
  
Well, that was… brief. ‘Right,’ says Dan cautiously. ‘And you said it's, um, permanent?’  
  
‘Yes.’ Lucifer’s jaw clenches and his hands tighten convulsively on his mug which makes an awful screeching sound on the saucer.

Dan grins weakly. ‘Careful,’ he jokes dryly, ‘Chloe would have your head if your ruin that mug.’  
  
Lucifer recoils from the thing as if scalded and that growing suspicion Dan has that something might possibly be a bit wrong? Grows claws and fangs as alarm bells start ringing in his head. And he has a horrible feeling about what that might be.  
  
He clears his throat, trying to stare at anywhere except Lucifer’s hand, white-knuckled and clutching at the edge of the bench. ‘So this spell,’ he presses on doggedly. ‘What _exactly_ does it involve?’  
  
Lucifer eyes him reluctantly before addressing his hands. ‘What it sounds like. The soul - mine in this case - is bound to another's will.’ He stops talking.  
  
Dan frowns. ‘My ‘will’, I'm guessing. What does that even mean?’  
  
Lucifer swallows and bites his lip hard enough to turn it white. ‘A great many things,’ he evades, ‘but to put it simply the subject of the binding accepts the Ma- the other soul’s orders in all things.’  
  
Dan grins a little shakily, uneasy, and tries to defuse the tension in the air. ‘Orders? So what, you're like my butler now? I've always wanted an English butler.’  
  
His humour falls flat as Lucifer grits his teeth and replies, a little unevenly, ‘No. It's not - servitude. It's slavery.’  
  
Dan shifts in his seat and flexes his fingers around the mug uncomfortably. ‘So what? You have to do what I say or something?’ He clears his throat and leans forward slightly, intent. ‘Like I say jump and -?’  
  
Lucifer watches him, eyes dark and grim. ‘I start jumping until you feel like rescinding the order, yes.’  
  
There's a moment of deathly silence before Dan explodes.  
  
‘That’s insane!’ His voice rings a little too loudly and with a jolt he catches Lucifer’s flinch.  
  
‘Wait,’ says Dan sharp and aghast. ‘You're not frightened of me, are you? Because of this?’  
  
Lucifer avoids his gaze for a moment before answering roughly, as though it is being torn from his very being, ‘ _Yes_.’  
  
Dan sits back with a thud, dumbfounded. A world where Lucifer Morningstar is afraid of anything let alone _Dan_ is unthinkable. Even before Dan discovered who he really was he had thought him pretty fearless, brave in the face of bullets, of detractors, never afraid to live his life on his terms and no-one else's.  
  
Not half an hour ago he had found that the guy was less of a ridiculously handsome well-dressed Brit who occasionally literally turned into a red menace than a seven foot tall tower of flame and light. And now, _now_ Lucifer - his friend - was afraid of him? No. Dan didn't buy it and he certainly wouldn't accept it.  
  
Uncertainly, he tries to remedy the situation. ‘Look,’ he says awkwardly. ‘You know I'd never - take advantage, right?’  
  
He takes in Lucifer’s stony countenance and soldiers on. ‘Even if this, all this crazy talk about this _spell_ is right, nothing has to change. It worked, we saved Chloe. Period. We can just - forget about this and,’ he takes a breath, ‘move on.’  
  
He chances a look at Lucifer on the other side of the table, who looks highly skeptical. ‘We can deal with this.’ Dan’s voice sounds desperate and unconvincing even to his own ears.  
  
He hides behind a deep gulp of his drink. The irish cocoa gives him the dutch courage to continue. ‘Besides, what happens if you just ignore it?’ He says hopefully. ‘Maybe it'll just break down over time.’  
  
But Lucifer just snorts bitterly. ‘No. It won't.’ He looks away before continuing, jaw clenched. ‘And the consequences for disobedience are many and - punitive.’  
  
Dan stares at him helplessly. ‘What sort of ‘punitive’?’  
  
Lucifer's mouth tightens further and he all but glares at Dan in accusation. His tone however remains just this side of civil. ‘The agonising kind.’  
  
Dan is about to snap at him for being so damned evasive when the revelations of the last few minutes sluggishly process through his brain and he finally registers Lucifer’s body language - tight and coiled and as unhappy as any perp cuffed to an interrogation table. Shit.  
  
‘Oh God,’ he says faintly. ‘I'm doing it right now, aren’t I? Making you answer questions when you don't want to?’  
  
As Lucifer opens his mouth to answer, Dan swears and snaps ‘Don’t answer that!’  
  
He freezes when Lucifer’s mouth snaps shut.  
  
‘Oh God, Oh Christ, I'm sorry!’ he babbles. ‘Talk! I mean it's fine, you can talk if you want to!’  
  
He exhales harshly, feeling sick as Lucifer unclenches his jaw and regards him warily.  
  
After a moment of brittle silence, Dan says faintly, ‘God. This is screwed up, Lucifer.’  
  
Lucifer scoffs and glances away. ‘Yes. his plans always were.’  
  
Dan frowns uncertainly. ‘Whose?’  
  
Lucifer looks at him, fingers drumming impatiently next to his untouched mug. ‘Dad's.’ At Dan’s blank look, he sighs irritably and elaborates. ‘ _God_ . It's all just another manipulation of his. Just like it always is with him.’  
  
He smiles bitterly, eyes distant. ‘It's all so elegant, isn’t it? Either let Chloe die, fade away into endless oblivion or-’  
  
He locks eyes with Dan, a cold light in his normally bright expressive eyes. ‘Enslave myself to you, a mortal man. To obey the way he always wanted me to. Clever, don't you think?’  
  
‘Clever’ isn't the word Dan would have chosen for this. More ‘insane’ or ‘hellish’ or ‘profoundly screwed up’.  
  
Lucifer smiles rancorously down at his drink. ‘Just another of Dad's endless bloody life lessons for his delinquent disappointment of a son.’ He punctuates his words with an acid grin and takes a long drink from the mug.  
  
Dan rubs at his face. He feels bone tired and fragile, like rubber stretched too thin. ‘So, you're my - you're bound to me. And we think it's permanent and I need to be careful what I say and how I say it to you or I'll wind up hurting you, even when I'm not trying to?’ His voice comes out as a tad high-pitched, almost to the point of hysterics.  
  
As he sees Lucifer’s mouth open he quickly interjects. ‘That’s not a question. Just an - an observation. No need to, um, add anything if you don't want to.’ He hesitates, ‘But do add something if you want to? Oh God,’ he laughs weakly, ‘I'm screwing this up, aren’t it?’  
  
For the first time, Dan thinks he sees what looks like the beginnings of a smirk curve Lucifer’s lips. ‘Yes,’ Lucifer replies, with just a hint of his usual smart-assery.

Dan can't help it, he grins, feeling a stupid bubble of relief. ‘So business as usual, huh?’  
  
This earns a small huff and the faintest softening of the tense lines of Lucifer’s shoulders.  
  
Bolstered by the slight easing of the tension, Dan asks cautiously, ‘Do you mind if I ask you some more questions and the bond?’  
  
Lucifer sighs deeply and answers, ‘Yes,’ before adding, ‘But you can ask anyway.’  
  
Dan nods gratefully. ‘Thanks, man. Right. Um, so you can answer any or none of these as much or as little as you want.’ He looks at Lucifer, who appears to be listening, tension less visible in his slender frame, so Dan presses on. ‘Um. So this thing is very - literal, isn’t it? But there are loopholes. Like we're doing now to work around it?’  
  
Lucifer nods. ‘Yes.’  
  
Dan waits. Okay, so apparently that's it. Fine.  
  
He takes another sip and tries to formulate his next hypothesis. ‘Fine. And it's - you're treating me differently. Like, weirdly polite. For you. Is that part of the bond or are,’ Dan hesitates, ‘Are you just afraid of me?’  
  
Lucifer inspects his hands. At last, he simply repeats, ‘Yes,’ and Dan's heart sinks.  
  
‘Okay,’ he acknowledges roughly. ‘Okay. So a bit of both. That's - that's probably fair enough. I guess I would be too if it was the other way ‘round.’  He’s not even sure he would have had the guts to do it, if it _had_ been the other way around, he thinks numbly.  

He hesitates before asking quietly, ‘You don't have to answer this, but, um, is it _me_ you're afraid of or what the bond will do to you if you don't… comply?’  
  
Lucifer looks away, clearly uncomfortable for a moment. And Dan hastily adds, ‘Never mind.’  
  
They sit in silence for several minutes before Dan eventually says, almost to himself. ‘This really is slavery, isn’t it?’

-

He regrets saying that.


	6. Enchained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan screws up and Lucifer has some trust issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one today to make up for the missed post on Monday (sorry, work was a veritable demon)! We plan to post another on Friday as recompense. :P
> 
> Thank you for all your amazing comments! Hope you enjoy the chapter. :D
> 
> Warnings (this chapter) for drama, angst and just the faintest smidge of kink.

Lucifer is obviously _pissed_ and it’s Dan’s fault.

One minute Dan had just quietly accepted to himself that the bonding spell, as much as he'd like to view it as a stupid piece of abracadabra was real, was literally slavery and having very real consequences for both Dan and his friend - and the next Lucifer had yelped and bolted out of his seat with an expression of startled horror.  
  
And from his wrists fell heavy wrought-iron _chains_ and oh God, was that a freaking _collar_ around his neck?  
  
Dan stares at him in shock. ‘What the _hell_ ?’ He yelps. ‘What _is_ that?’  
  
Lucifer’s hands fly to his wrists, face wild as he yanks at them _hard_ . But instead of giving way under what Dan knows damn well to be Lucifer's not-inconsiderable strength, the chains remain intact and Lucifer gasps and doubles over, as though in agony.  
  
Dan darts forward to catch him, only to freeze as Lucifer straightens, a furious glower on his face, eyes burning crimson and face twisting into his horrific mask of burns and scars. Dan stares at him, alarmed and, despite himself, just a little afraid, but Lucifer just glares and, very deliberately, forces his hands relax, allowing the chains to fall, clanking, towards his knees.

Belatedly he answers, glaring at Dan for all he's worth. ‘They're bloody chains, what the hell do they _look_ like?’ He flinches the moment the words cross his lips as though either receiving or anticipating a blow.  
  
Dan stares at him, completely baffled. ‘But why, _how_ are they here? I didn't do anything!’ He waves his hands defensively. ‘Are they even real?’

So distressed is he that he automatically reaches out to touch the chains, before he registers Lucifer’s stiff, tense bearing and recoils. ‘Sorry.’  
  
Lucifer disregards his apology, and snaps, face still scalded. ‘Yes, they're real. If by ‘real’ you mean present on this physical plane.’ At Dan’s blank look, Dan can see Lucifer almost roll his eyes before he angrily elaborates. ‘You wished them into existence.’  
  
Dan stares at him, shocked and appalled. ‘No, I didn't! Why the hell would I wish for these? Why would _anyone_ ?’  
  
Lucifer growls and shifts his weight awkwardly, glowering as the manacles clank. ‘Oh, I don’t know’, he says snidely, ‘as a means of control?’ The words come out vicious and resound in Dan’s ears like an attack, an accusation.  
  
And Dan all but snarls back, ‘ _I don’t want to control you_!’

They both freeze as they hear a sound from the bedroom, making automatic alarmed eye contact at the thought of Chloe walking in on them like _this_ , God, whatever the hell _this_ was, before the soft sound of her snoring resumes and they relax, equally relieved. 

Dan crosses his arms and tries to rein in his frayed temper.

He’s angry, okay? He’s not hurt and he’s definitely not guilty. This is just a thing. Just a stupid Lucifer-thing that they have to sort out and then it will all be fine and everything can go back to normal. Whatever the hell that was nowadays. He licks his lips as his eyes dart to the freaking _chains_ before skittering off to stare at the wall, the windows, anywhere but at Lucifer who’s standing before him, face like a thunderstorm.  

‘Okay, okay,’ says Dan reluctantly. ‘They, these things,’ he can’t say ‘chains’, ‘suddenly appeared from nowhere. How can we get them to go _away_ to nowhere?’ He looks at Lucifer with an edge of desperation. Lucifer regards him in return, looking tired, miserable and still a whole lot pissed off.  
  
‘That’s up to you,’ he says, voice tight and his eyes - Dan swallows, that thing that isn’t guilt clogging up his throat. Lucifer’s eyes look _hurt_.

‘How can it be up to me?’ He asks, uncomprehending.

He watches as Lucifer scowls and looks away, eyes burning metaphorical holes into Chloe’s microwave.

‘You're the Master here,’ he eventually says. He sounds like he’s _trying_ act as if the word ‘Master’ isn’t painful to him at all - and failing. At his sides, his fists clench from where they had, almost unconsciously, been fidgeting with the metal cuffs on his bare wrists. ‘The binding is dependent on your thoughts and visualisation.’

Dan nods slowly, mind turning as he leans heavily back against the kitchen bench. ‘So I, um, see slavery as chains,’ he hesitates, ‘and a collar,’ he adds roughly, ‘so -’  
  
Lucifer nods shortly, still glaring into the space to the side of Dan. ‘I stand before you chained and collared.’  
  
Dan nods, numb. So this is his fault. Of course it is. ‘Right,’ he pauses before adding helplessly, ‘So how do I _undo_ it?’  
  
Lucifer locks eyes with him and shifts in place, the dull gleam of the monstrosity around his neck catching Dan’s unhappy gaze. ‘You need to train your mind,’ he tells him, mouth tight.  
  
‘My mind?’ repeats Dan blankly. ‘How do I do that?’  
  
Lucifer snorts. ‘I would start,’ he drawls, ‘with perhaps not getting a kick out of me in chains on my bloody knees.’ His tone, initially snide turns into a near-snarl, expression twisted and bitter and eyes burning.

Dan’s stomach lurches and he takes an automatic step back. ‘I don’t,’ he hisses, mindful of Chloe in the next room. ‘I swear I don't want _any_ of this. I just - I just want everything to go back to _normal_ .’ His voice cracks.  
  
Lucifer regards him. His shoulders lower slightly and finally, to Dan’s great relief, his shape, ‘visage’, whatever, flicks back to regular hot-human-playboy setting rather than terrifying red-hot Devil setting. But still he seems skeptical and untrusting.  
  
Dan pinches the bridge of his nose before stepping forward towards his friend (former friend? _Slave_ ? No, Dan promises to himself. Never that.)  
  
‘Look,’ he says tone urgent and pained. ‘I don’t know how any of this works. I'll be honest with you, man. I'm completely lost.’ He draws a breath. ‘I keep screwing up with this, with you, no matter what I do. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.’ He stares intently to Lucifer’s dark eyes. ‘But I need your help. And if we're to,’ he jerks a thumb down at the chains, ‘get these goddamn _things_ off and try to work through this mess, you need to help me, because, Lucifer -’ he shakes his head, eyes wide. ‘I can't do this on my own.’  
  
He swallows and regards Lucifer, who's still and observing Dan quietly. Like one would a predator, thinks Dan grimly. ‘Please,’ he begs hoarsely, ‘I need you to -’ he stops, remembering the freaking ‘rules’ with a jolt. So close to screwing up yet again. God freaking damn it.

‘Please,’ he amends softly. ‘Can you help me fix this?’

At last Lucifer nods and, slowly, tentatively, they make their way back to Chloe’s chairs, Dan in the lead. Dan watches as the man awkwardly settles on the seat next to him, chains dragging down almost to the floor. Up close the collar looks even worse, rough and hideous, a marked contrast to Lucifer’s pale neck. Dan hates it, hates everything about this other than Chloe, whole and alive in the next room.  
  
‘Right,’ says Dan, trying to be as straightforward and matter-of-fact as he can about this. ‘I think we need to establish ground rules.’  
  
At Lucifer’s wary look, Dan hastily elaborates. ‘I mean for me, not for you.’  
  
He scratches as his stubble tiredly. ‘So we established earlier that this thing’s stupidly literal. Like I ask a question and you're forced to answer, whether I want you to or not.’ Dan very carefully controls his inflection to ensure he speaks only statements.  
  
‘I need to ask you a few questions to establish the - parameters of this thing. Um. I don't want to but I think it's a conversation that we need to have if we're to have any hope of, of _managing_ this situation. Do you understand?’  
  
Lucifer nods reluctantly. ‘Yes.’  
  
‘Okay,’ says Dan with relief, before continuing, slightly bolstered by his success. ‘Okay. I'm going to start now. I want you to only answer the questions you want, er, are _willing_ to answer in as much or as little detail as you feel is necessary, okay?’  
  
At Lucifer’s nod, Dan takes a breath and begins.  
  
‘Um, so we've got some loopholes. Like we're doing now where I give you blanket permission to choose whether or not to do something for a while. Is that right?’  
  
Lucifer considers before nodding, eyes sharp as he shifts slightly to regard Dan. ‘Yes.’  
  
Dan exhales. ‘Great. That's - great. So we can work with that.’ He hesitates, ‘Can’t I just relieve you of your,’ he grimaces, ‘obligation to me? Like tell you to always ignore what I say or something?’ He gazes at Lucifer hopefully.  
  
But Lucifer is shaking his head. ‘’Fraid not.’ He sighs and rubs his mouth, irritation flashing across his face as the chains dangle in front of him. ‘It's not a simple matter of you ordering and I obeying. The bond is complex and rooted firmly as a tether between our souls. It must be satisfied or,’ he smiles tightly, ‘there will be hell to pay.’  
  
Dan swallows. ‘Right. ‘Satisfied’, what does that mean?’ He pauses. It sounds like this thing is freaking _alive_ or something. ‘What does it _want_ ?’  
  
Lucifer huffs out a tired breath, face drawn and exhausted as he leans against the counter. He looks so drained Dan’s heart gives a sympathetic twinge. When he speaks his voice is heavy and dull. ‘Love.’  
  
Dan stares at him, nonplussed. ‘The bond wants _love_ ? What, is it lonely? Wait, don’t answer that,’ he adds hastily, ‘I was being facetious.’ He frowns. ‘But seriously, what does that mean?’  
  
Lucifer eyes him. His hands are clenched around the table top, jaw tight. ‘It wants me to love you.’

At Dan’s startled silence, Lucifer looks away, throat working uncomfortably. ‘It works by binding my soul, my grace, what have you, to yours and inducing an artificial sense of, well,’ he pauses as though searching for an appropriate term before finally concluding, ‘adoration’. He stares hard at Chloe’s cabinets on the other side of the room. ‘That’s how it guarantees obedience. What better way to compel someone to obey than ensuring they have no choice but to _want_ to.’

Dan stares at him for a long beat, mind almost blank. ‘But that,’ he pauses as the full weight of that slowly sinks in. ‘Lucifer, that’s - sick.’ His voice is numb with horror.  
  
Lucifer nods, face angled away from him.  
  
Dan bites down hard on his tongue, before saying, almost desperately, ‘But you can't love me. You're already in love - with Chloe.’  
  
He thinks it's a bad sign when Lucifer’s normal automatic pseudo-denial-slash-evasion doesn't make an appearance. He shrugs, very slightly, and carefully examines Chloe’s plastic table top as though searching for flaws. ‘That doesn't make a difference. It isn't the same kind of love.’  
  
Dan nearly asks what kind of love it was then, but the lost, shockingly fragile expression of Lucifer’s face dissuades him.

‘But we can fix it, right?’ He says instead, desperate. ‘All I have to do is tell you _not_ to love me and then, then you won't want to obey me either.’ He seizes on the notion frantically. 

But Lucifer just snorts and looks at him, expression bitter ‘I wouldn’t advise it.’  
  
Dan stares at him, heart thudding. ‘Why not?’  
  
Lucifer briefly drops his head into his hands before turning his neck to look at Dan askance. ‘Because as horrible as being made to love you and obey you will be, being ordered _not_ to love you and yet still being fundamentally compelled to do so would, I imagine, be infinitely worse.’  
  
Dan stares at him, feeling a hint of bile rising up his throat. ‘You're saying there’s no way around it.’  
  
He doesn’t look up to see if Lucifer nods. Dan bites his lip until he feels the skin begin to break. ‘Right,’ he repeats dully. ‘So we're stuck like this.’  
  
Lucifer doesn't bother dignifying that with a reply.  
  
A moment creeps by, almost gnawing at Dan's insides with the silence.  
  
Finally he viciously scrubs at his face with both his hands and takes a breath. Lucifer is staring down at his lap, dark eyes fixed on the manacles. Dan knows he needs to man up and work out how the hell to get those off of him.  
  
He clears his throat. ‘Can I at least put some, I don't know, safeguards in place to make this easier on you?’ He catches Lucifer flicking him a dry look. ‘I mean,’ he presses on, ransacking his brain, ‘Say I tell you I want you - I _order_ you - to talk to me like you normally do, or however you want to. Will that work?’  
  
He feels almost frantic with the desire for this to work. The idea of Lucifer quiet and, God, _submissive_ towards him for the rest of their _lives_ horrifies and sickens him.  
  
Lucifer appears to consider this thoughtfully, forehead creased under his tousled black hair, before nodding. ‘Yes, I think it should.’  
  
Dan feels a waves of crushing relief. ‘Good.’ He pauses then realises why Lucifer is still silent. ‘Oh hell. Right. I, um, _order_ you to talk to me however you want to talk to me. Or not talk to me if that's what you want.’ He hesitates, ‘Is that okay?’  
  
Lucifer appears to think this through before saying, ‘Yes.’ He looks at Dan consideringly before adding, almost as though testing the waters, ‘I think you're a douche.’  
  
Dan has never been so happy to be called a douche in his entire life.

He finds himself grinning widely, a burble of relieved laughter springing up through his throat. He is delighted to see Lucifer shakily grin back. 

‘Yes,’ he agrees happily. ‘Yes, I am.’ He feels the muscles in his shoulders relax as some of the tension in the room almost palpably diminishes.  
  
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Good start.’ He grins as he hears Lucifer snort disparagingly at him. ‘Er, can I order you not to follow my orders?’  
  
Lucifer shakes his head. ‘No, the compulsion will still be there. Just more… uncomfortable.’  
  
Dan winces. ‘Okay, not doing that then.’ He thinks. ‘How about ‘I give your permission to only answer questions when you want to’? Will that work?’  
  
Lucifer considers. ‘Possibly.’  
  
Dan nods jerkily, ‘Okay let's lock that one in then.’ He intones, uncomfortably, ‘I hereby give your permission to only answer questions when you want to.’ He pauses, ‘How's that?’  
  
Lucifer remains silent and Dan thinks he's angry with him before coming to the realisation and grinning stupidly. ‘Oh that worked, then.’ He huffs a shaky laugh. ‘I think I'm getting the hang of this.’  
  
He graciously ignores Lucifer’s look of disdain. He twists around in the seat to stare at the bloody awful looking chains and squares his shoulders. ‘I order these chains to disappear!’  
  
He waits for a second and then frowns with dismay as they remain stubbornly, hideously present. ‘Why didn't that work?’ His voice, frayed as it was by nerves, comes out with just a hint of a whine.  
  
Lucifer snorts. ‘Because they're not a part of me. You oaf,’ he adds almost as an happy afterthought. He sighs and licks his chapped lips. ‘They're a part of you, Daniel, a manifestation of your,’ he grimaces, ‘will. You can't just order them off - you need work out how the hell to stop willing them into existence in the first place. You idiot,’ he adds, presumably for the sheer hell of it.  
  
Dan gives him a look. ‘Right, you said earlier. This is because of how I imagine slavery.’  
  
Lucifer nods, looking vaguely contemptuous as he drums his fingers next to his now tepid drink. ‘You really are depressingly unimaginative,’ he informs Dan.  
  
Dan snorts but accepts that as fair. He suspects he’ll probably accept anything Lucifer ever sees fit to complain about with him as fair for a long time to come.  
  
‘Okay, so how do I stop being so - so ‘unimaginative’?’  
  
Lucifer looks like he's considering giving voice to several aspersions regarding Dan’s obvious lack of intellect but instead eyes him and says dryly, ‘You could always just try to think them away.’  
  
Dan nods slowly. Right, because he is a wizard now apparently, Harry, and has the power to make shit disappear at will. He closes his eyes gamely and thinks as hard as he can. _Go away. No more chains._ Thinks hard of Lucifer’s wrists in all his usual prissy cufflinked couture, unmarred by ugly iron, thinks of his neck, pale and bare under his open-collared shirts.  
Thinks desperately on how much he hates this whole damned situation.  
  
But when he opens his eyes Lucifer is still sitting there, chained and collared and looking deeply unimpressed.  
  
Dan groans and nearly slams his head into the benchtop. ‘Why didn't it work?’  
  
Lucifer laughs at him darkly. ‘Don’t look at me.’ He waves a hand into the air, before glaring at Dan in irritation as the metal chain nearly hits him in the face. ‘It's your pitiful excuse for a brain that's the problem!’  
  
Dan grits his teeth. ‘I tried, but it didn't work!’  
  
Lucifer sighs and grudgingly concedes, ‘Well, you're no master of the dark arts, that’s for certain. I suppose we couldn't expect you to pick this up overnight.’ He taps his thigh thoughtfully. ‘Maybe-’  
  
Dan leans forward, exhausted and frustrated. ‘Maybe what?’  
  
Lucifer casts him a flat look and says, evidently without thinking, ‘Don’t interrupt, Daniel.’ He freezes suddenly, eying Dan cautiously, before releasing a slow breath. He regards Dan in something like muted surprise. ‘Oh. You really don't care how I address you, do you?’  
  
Dan squints at him in bafflement. ‘No? I really don't. Say whatever you want, man. You’ve never given a crap before and now,’ Dan huffs wryly, ‘now, I’m pretty sure I actually deserve it.’  
  
Lucifer looks at him as though slightly quizzical for a moment before obviously dismissing the thought. ‘You definitely do,’ he informs him. He slaps at his thighs, jaw clenching as the manacles clang. ‘Well, let's get this over with then.’  
  
And with that he slowly rises and makes his way to the empty space in the middle of the kitchen where, not one hour previously, they had enacted the bonding.  
  
Dan stands, confused and trails after him. ‘Get what over with?’  
  
Lucifer looks at him as though Dan were an idiot. ‘Let's get these chains off.’ And without further ado he sinks back down onto his knees in front of Dan.  
  
-  
  
Dan stares down at him, dark head roughly at Dan's midriff, heavy, iron chains pooling at his knees, collar dully glinting under the harsh fluorescent light of the lamp.  
  
‘What the hell are you doing?’  
  
Lucifer sighs irritably, shifting uncomfortably from knee to knee. ‘Well, come on,’ he says impatiently. ‘Do please get down here so I can take you through how to get these blasted things off.’ At Dan’s look, he dryly adds, ‘I'm not going to wear these forever, you know, no matter what your kinky little heart may desire. They'll ruin the line of my suit.’

Dan scowls. ‘ _My_ kinky little-?’ He starts to snap back in an echo of their usual banter, before abruptly remembering that things right now are about are far from usual as they can get. His voice peters off and, with an awkward clearing of his throat, he moves to sit down next to Lucifer on the floor. ‘Why are we on the floor?’ He asks a little plaintively as he crosses his legs.

Lucifer eyes him with obvious contempt, as though Dan were an exceptionally stupid toddler Lucifer had been lumbered with. ‘Because of the metaphysical resonance,’ he says as though that were patently obvious.

At Dan’s blank look, he heaves a dramatic sigh. ‘This, if you'll recall, is where we cast the binding enchantment.’ Oh yeah, Dan _recalls_ alright.

‘As such,’ he continues blithely, ‘it has a more powerful sense of connectedness with the bond and being here, exactly here, should make it easier to… tweak it.’

Dan nods slowly. That makes sense. Insofar as any of this makes sense, which is to say, not at all. ‘Fantastic,’ he says dully. ‘So how do we do this thing?’  
  
Now that they’re at equal level, Lucifer crosses his long legs, stupidly graceful as always. He opens his mouth, before shutting again and Dan can see what looks like a struggle play out in the micro-expressions of his face. ‘I need to give you some orders,’ Lucifer says finally. ‘You say I can speak to you however I want but to compel you into action, that’s a bit different.’  
  
‘Uh, okay.’ God, Dan really wishes this thing had come with instructions or a manual, or something. Maybe it had, in that little book of Lucifer’s. In retrospect, he probably should have read that freaking thing when Lucifer was waving it under his nose two hours ago. ‘Do I have to, uh, order you?’  
  
‘Permission should be sufficient.’ Lucifer’s face is back to looking pained.  
  
At least Dan understands this time - Lucifer has never asked Dan for permission, not even (or, you know, _especially_ ) when it regarded Dan’s own kid.  
  
‘Okay, uh.’ He pauses, licks his lips and tries to plan his words. ‘I give you permission,’ he blurts. ‘To, um, give me orders-’ he hesitates, thinking over what Lucifer had told him earlier, that bit about making _blanket vows_ . ‘-knowing they may be ignored.’  
  
Lucifer’s eyebrows rise. ‘Hmm,’ he snarks in a faint approximation of his usual condescension. ‘Someone’s been paying attention. For once.’

God, it had only been about half an hour, but Dan is already thrilled by Lucifer’s rediscovered dickishness.  
  
‘Good,’ Lucifer says continues. ‘Now take my hands.’ They brace themselves, but the bond seems to take no issue with this as Dan reaches out and takes Lucifer’s right in his left, his left in his right. The chains make ominous clinking noises as Lucifer reaches out. The weight naturally leads them to rest their arms along their thighs, and Dan stares down at their joined hands.  
  
‘I’m going to take you into the metaphysical plane,’ Lucifer says somberly. Dan looks up from where he was staring at the cuffs - again - to meet his eyes. They’re starting to burn red, just a little bit. It still makes Dan’s spine tingle, his fight or flight reflex rearing its head to combat the danger the Devil poses.  
  
‘What does that mean?’  
  
‘When you controlled my power earlier, what you saw was my metaphysical form unleashed,’ Lucifer explains, his patient tone edged with a slight edge of patronisation. ‘When you see my true face in the physical plane, you see a - well, I suppose you could call it a ‘leak’ from that plane onto this one.’ He snorts. ‘Which does unfortunately put one in mind of incontinence, but there we have it,’ he drawls absently.  
  
Dan is not getting _any_ of this. ‘Okay,’ he agrees. ‘So you’re going to be a tall pillar of light again?’  
  
‘No,’ Lucifer’s face is pinched. ‘I very much doubt I will.’  
  
Ominous doesn’t begin to cover it.  
  
‘So how do you take me into this… metaphysical plane then? The airport?’  
  
The red eyes are - if it’s possible - even _more_ terrifying mid eye roll when Lucifer is entirely unimpressed with Dan. Something about the swirling inky blackness where people usually had _white_ in their eyes. A feeling of insignificance passes over Dan, and he shivers a little.

‘I am going to do us both a favour,’ Lucifer remarks archly, ‘and, in the interests of time and getting this blasted things off of my person, ignore that terrible dad joke you just committed. Ha,’ he briefly grins, a flash of his old self shining through. ‘Dan joke. Get it? Dan joke? Because you’re a Dan and appallingly unfunny?’ At Dan’s blank look, Lucifer huffs in irritation and mutters something indistinct about ‘unappreciated comic genius’.

‘I have a certain amount of psychic ability,’ He goes on to explain to Dan, looking bored. ‘I can open your tiny mind to join me in the metaphysical plane, as I am one of its guardians. A little hang-over from being the Lord of all damned souls, if you will. Our hands link us physically,’ his hand tightens compulsively around Dan’s, ‘and will help me link with you psychically. The bond will also ease the way.’ He considers, before adding helpfully, ‘Think of it as interdimensional astral lube.’

Of course. Dan thinks he might actually understand what they’re going to do _less_ now.

Lucifer can obviously see him struggling. He sighs deeply before saying, unenthusiastically, ‘Look. It’s so simple even you can grasp it. We’re going to hold hands and enter the Construct of the Matrix.’  
  
‘OH!’  
  
Lucifer looks like he wants to punch Dan, but Dan can’t help it.  
  
‘Yes,’ Lucifer says dryly. ‘Yet another piece of winning propaganda from dear old Dad. Just how many Jesus metaphors can one abide? Though the action wasn’t half bad,’ he acknowledges grudgingly. ‘So we’ll enter the plane-’  
  
‘The Construct,’ Dan interrupts, ignoring Lucifer’s glare. His red eyes are flaming now.  
  
‘-and our forms will equate with our own self image. They’ll likely reflect the bond,’ he pauses, expression now grim. ‘You the Master and me,’ he takes a breath, ‘the Slave.’ He avoids Dan’s eyes.  
  
Dan swallows. ‘More chains?’  
  
‘Hmm,’ Lucifer answers noncommittally. ‘Perhaps. From there I will attempt to teach you to control aspects of the bond.’  
  
‘You’re going to load a training program,’ Dan says, somewhat excitedly. The _Matrix_ .  
  
Lucifer does not look anywhere near as excited. ‘Yes, yes, if you’re quite done,’ he snaps. ‘Following the magick performed earlier, I do have limited resources.’  
  
‘Right, sorry,’ Dan feels a little admonished. ‘Okay. I-’ he thinks back. ‘Give you permission to take me to the metaphysical plane.’  
  
Lucifer rolls his eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he says dryly. And then his face - _contorts_ , seeming to run dizzyingly through shapes and forms and colours and _light_ , and then there’s a hard _tug_ at the centre of Dan’s chest and everything goes -

 

white.  
  
-  
  
It’s not like the Matrix.

 


	7. Acceptance and Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan takes a trip on the metaphysical plane. He doesn’t like it much. 
> 
> Meanwhile, every dark night is eventually broken by sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your awesome feedback! Hope you enjoy this extra long chapter! :D
> 
> Warnings for angst and horror (including torture implements) and Dan being Dan. This is the worst of the actual body horror for a while, so nearly out of the woods, folks!

 

Well, it’s white.

That’s the only similarity with the Matrix, as far as Dan can tell.

There’s no Neo in a flashy black coat, no Morpheus - the name echoes somewhere in the room as he thinks it, _weird_ , that didn’t happen with ‘Neo’ - or Trinity (again with the echoing). There’s no electronic flashing, no glossy paint. It’s just empty space, him, and - Lucifer.

At least he’s pretty sure it’s Lucifer, he thinks as he steps closer. Everything feels vague, and out of sync, like stepping through water or walking through a dream.

Lucifer looks as he does in the - _physical plane_ , Jesus - but instead of his usual immaculately presented self he’s _naked_ , bare as the day he was born - created? - skin a patchwork of shiny red burns and black ash.

At least the parts of him Dan can _see_ , he thinks with horror, for twined around him and digging into his flesh is a shadowy network of black wire, barbed with multiple points at spaced intervals. The wire twists along his body, tucking under the soles of his feet, winding up around his legs and lying densely woven around his torso. And his arms are _bound,_ viciously held together before him, wire wrapping between and around his wrists in a double tether.

But by far the worst of this is the awful _contraption_ on his head, a cage moulded claustrophobically close to Lucifer’s face, holding him helpless and gagged. A cage that Dan distantly recognises from some long ago ill advised historical wikipedia surfing.

A scold’s bridle.

Dan stands, frozen as the _white_ swirls around.

This can’t be his fault.

It just can’t. No matter what he might have accidentally produced on the ‘physical plane’, Dan _knows_ this is not his doing. Slavery or not, his imagination could not have possibly constructed this. What had Lucifer said? Something about his own ‘self-image’ -

Oh.

 _Oh hell_.

He takes a step forward, heart in his mouth. This was so not how he had imagined this going - insofar as he had imagined anything at all. Lucifer was meant to be able to help Dan through this process, help Dan _fix thi_ s _,_ but now this is even _worse_. He’s even more bound and wretched.

Dan helplessly stares at the bridle curving around Lucifer’s cheek, the goddamn bit in his mouth preventing him from even speaking. But the worst thing to Dan is that Lucifer isn’t even _trying_ to speak. He’s silent, his eyes - still glowing red - enraged and sad and even, Dan thinks with a pulse of horror, defeated?

There has to be a catch on this thing, Dan thinks desperately, some way to get this monstrous damn mask _off_. He steps hurriedly closer, oblivious to Lucifer’s flinch, hands automatically darting up to scrabble with the mess of vicious iron.

So close together they’re standing, close enough he can almost hear Lucifer’s breaths, that Dan feels more than sees Lucifer’s flinch. Dan’s hands still, inches away from the metal, before he takes a breath - of what he doesn’t even know given this isn’t even goddamn _real._ Without even thinking he makes a sound to Lucifer, a sort of hum like he might have made to comfort Trixie when she was little, then, feeling Lucifer fractionally relax beside him, Dan gently presses on his head - currently red and bald - to examine the monstrosity.   

It really is a work of sheer horror, reminding Dan distantly of the Spanish Inquisition, of the pictures in history books he read as a kid at Nanna’s house (his Nanna was one weird - and terrifying - lady), and some of the more terrible gang torture cases he’d seen at work. The wire, seemingly made of metal and shadow, curves menacingly around Lucifer’s exposed skull and there, right at the back of Lucifer’s head, lies a ring bolt holding the mask together. Dan feels a beat of hope. There is a large padlock hanging from it, looking stupidly out of place, like something you might find on a garage door, but there’s no obvious indication of where a key might slot.

Dan reaches out to touch it, thinking if he could just a keyhole, or a way to jimmy the damn thing off - but as soon as his fingertip meets cold metal, the padlock -

Disappears.

‘What the _hell_?’ He frowns, but doesn’t argue, instead touching at the ring, which also disappears. The bridle doesn’t seem to follow the same weirdass rule, however, because it remains stubbornly in place when he runs a hesitant finger along it. It’s loose, though, two halves joining without a lock. Dan tugs on them cautiously and they move with him, but not enough to just fall apart. Damnit.

He’s tugging again, making a gap wide enough for most of Lucifer’s skull when Lucifer makes a horrible noise.

It sounds like he’s screaming, but the gag in his mouth muffles the sound so that it’s guttural, _awful_ . Dan freezes, horrified, thinking, heart twisting in his chest that he’s just making it _worse_ . But Lucifer looks like he’s in agony, glowing eyes wide open and staring away from Dan as he half-convulves, as though lost in some private hell and Dan swears and desperately throws caution to the wind and _pushes_.

The metal bands rub hard against the sides of Lucifer’s face and skull, and Lucifer continues to scream, but in one long motion Dan yanks the damned contraption far enough away that it slides off, the bit falling from Lucifer’s parted lips.

‘Shit,’ Dan pants, once the bridle has fallen and entirely disappeared.  
  
‘Yes,’ Lucifer agrees, and it’s such a relief to Dan hear his usual annoying plummy voice, even if it’s a helluva lot raspier than usual. Lucifer shakes his head vigorously as it to clear it and licks his cracked and bleeding lips.

Without quite looking at Dan he remarks, in a too-casual tone, ‘Perhaps Doctor Linda was onto something when she told me to confront my image. Something about self-worth, which I always thought was terribly silly of the good doctor, because I’ve always had an excellent sense of self worth.’ He stares down at the wires still twisted around his wrists. He looks remarkably grey, thinks Dan, for a guy who was currently bright red. ‘Must be the bond,’ Lucifer mutters before casting an unreadable look at Dan. ‘Don’t suppose you could -?’

Dan nods and quickly reaches out to hesitantly taps at the wire wrapping around Lucifer’s wrists. To his shock, it burns red, causing Lucifer to hiss in what sounds like pain, before the tendrils grudgingly retreat, winding their way back around Lucifer and disappearing into the air without even a puff of smoke.  
  
Thank God. Now all Dan has to deal with is a burned, scarred, naked Lucifer who- has _wings_ ? How had he not noticed those? They’re only small, the size of the fairy wings Trixie keeps in her dress-ups box, and black. Is that… _leather_? What the hell?

He’ll come back to thinking about that later, he decides.

Before his eyes, Lucifer’s form starts swirling, clothes appearing on his body and covering up the little bat-like wings. His clothes are still blackened with soot and ash, but he looks much more like his usual self.  
  
‘Better,’ Lucifer sighs and manages a awkward smile in Dan’s direction before without warning he is suddenly bowed over as though a great force was contorting his form. The chains of the outside world are back, as is the heavy collar.  
  
Dan stares at him in alarm. ‘ _Lucifer_ ?’  
  
Lucifer’s face twists in pain, and he’s suddenly sinking to the floor before Dan until he’s kneeling, his head bowed and spine uncomfortably bent.  
  
Without hesitation, Dan joins him on the - floor? It’s a floor, now, Dan decides - and hurriedly reaches out a hand to lift Lucifer’s head.  
  
In so doing, he accidentally brushes a finger against one of the chain links, and it disappears for a moment. He stares at it, but instead of falling apart, the chains link themselves back together, the length of chain now even shorter.  
  
‘Daniel,’ Lucifer’s voice is rough, and somehow the room echoes with the word ‘Master’, sending a shiver down Dan’s spine. Dan looks up to meet his eyes. The red is bleeding from them, they’re turning coal black. ‘They won’t disappear. I promise. Stop concentrating on the physical form and listen to me.’  
  
He feels some kind of weird pull to touching the chains, an allure, like he’s _meant_ to, but Dan stays his hand.  
  
‘While you were freeing me,’ Lucifer continues, voice deep and echoing, ‘I was feeling out the bond. I know what I need to do now.’  
  
Thank _God_ someone has a plan. Or, thank the Devil, Dan supposes.  
  
‘You need to stand.’  
  
Dan frowns uneasily but obeys, pulling himself away from Lucifer and finding his feet. Gravity seems to be less of an issue here, he realises - though it should probably have been obvious. As he stands, Lucifer pushes himself back up into a kneeling position, his head once again bowed.  
  
Although his head is down, the sound rings clear to Dan when Lucifer begins to talk. The clarity and chiming that surrounds Lucifer’s words make the echoes Dan had heard earlier pale in comparison. Somehow, Dan knows that these words are the absolute truth, pure as bells.  
  
His brain takes a moment to catch up with what Lucifer is actually saying, once it gets past the sounds themselves. It’s a little like when Dan swaps between English and Spanish, sometimes needing to wait a microsecond while the meaning settles between the sounds.  
  
‘I pledge myself,’ Lucifer is saying, voice distant, and deep and _certain_ .  
  
I obey.’  
  
I remain.’  
  
I submit.’  
  
I protect.’  
  
There’s a beat, and then Lucifer looks up, and immediately locks eyes with Dan’s.  
  
‘My soul is yours.’  
  
-  
  
The light is all encompassing, as it had been the first time. As it dissipates, Dan can see Lucifer’s image contorting again, before it settles into its usual shape, eyes fading back to black.  
  
‘Shit,’ Dan breathes.  
  
Lucifer doesn’t reply, but frowns instead, looking downward. The manacles have disappeared, leaving only the hideous collar surrounding his neck.  
  
Dan swallows, mind whirling attempting to process what just happened. Finally he says hoarsely, ‘What _was_ that?’  
  
Lucifer studiously avoids his eyes, gaze averted to the floor, something not unlike shame flashing across his face like a fresh wound. ‘That,’ he manages eventually, tone, to Dan’s mind, way too even, ‘was my obeisance.’  
  
Dan blinks, confused and deeply rattled. ‘Your what?’  
  
Lucifer sighs deeply and slowly starts to rise from the floor where he is still kneeling. Belatedly, Dan stretches out a hand to help him up. This time Lucifer accepts it and allows Dan to pull him to his feet. He looks, thinks Dan, awful. Utterly exhausted and swaying unsteadily on his feet, the heavy wrought-iron of the bloody collar almost bending his neck. Dan immediately leads him to the chairs and helps him sit, hovering worriedly.  
  
Lucifer flicks his gaze up to Dan, eyes seeming bruised and heavily shadowed. ‘It’s a - pledge, of sorts,’ he explains in that frighteningly uncharacteristic quiet tone. He clears his throat and looks away. ‘To remove the chains I realised our best bet would be to assuage the bond by a show,’ he pauses, ‘an affirmation of our… respective statuses.’  
  
He licks his lips. ‘As I told you earlier, the manacles were just a representation of the bond from your mind. Once I made my pledge it was clear to you, the bond,’ he hesitates before adding in a rush, ‘and me that I accepted my role in these events, thus making chains unnecessary, especially as it was clear you did not desire them on me.’  
  
He looks down at his bare wrists, critically. ‘I'm glad it worked, actually. I wasn't sure it would.’  
  
Dan's still struggling to grasp what happened.

‘But that,’ he swallows, the horror still fresh in his mind, ‘those _wires_. Lucifer, what you said,’ he hesitates, ‘about your self worth-?’

Lucifer eyes flick away to nonchalantly inspect a cracked fingernail. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. I told you, it’s probably the bond.’ He smiles insincerely.

Dan hesitates but decides to leave it for now because what _do_ you say to someone who you may have (read: definitely) inadvertently enslaved when you’re worried about their capacity for self-hatred and oh yeah they’re literally the Devil?

‘Right,’ he says instead like a coward. He clears his throat uncomfortably. ‘But what about your,’ he gestures roughly at the ugly monstrosity around Lucifer’s neck, ‘collar? Shouldn't that be gone too?’

But Lucifer is shaking his head. He absently rubs at his neck, which is reddened and abraded where metal meets soft skin. ‘It's not surprising that there would be a remnant,’ he mutters.  
  
Dan feels sick. ‘So what, we're stuck with it?’ His voice rings a little too loudly in the kitchen and Lucifer casts him a flat look. ‘I am, yes,’ he says pointedly.  
  
Then he frowns as if in thought, fingers tracing the coarse metal. ‘Although you may be able to alter it.’  
  
Dan nods immediately. ‘Then let's do that,’ he says sharply. Anything for him not to have to stare at Lucifer’s bent neck and bowed head for another minute. ‘Do we need to go back to The Matrix?’ God, he really hopes not.  
  
Lucifer snorts at him disdainfully and gives him a dry look. ‘Thankfully, no. Now that the bond has cemented further, you should be able to manipulate it,’ he hesitates then adds tightly, ‘and me, more readily.’

Dan stares at him, gut twisting uncomfortably. ‘I'm not going to manipulate you, Lucifer. I told you, I would never - take advantage of this thing like that.’ He tries to disregard the look of faint disbelief on his friend's drawn features and leans forward. ‘Okay, so how do I do this?’  
  
Lucifer shrugs, somehow making the movement elegant despite the lodestone around his neck. ‘Should be as simple as point and think.’  
  
Dan blinks, surprised and grins suddenly. ‘What like the sonic screwdriver in _Doctor Who_ ?’ At Lucifer’s look of disdain, he shrugs defensively. ‘What, Trixie likes it.’  
  
‘I'm sure,’ drawls Lucifer disinterestedly.  
  
‘Cheeky,’ mutters Dan, before catching Lucifer’s slight wince. ‘Sorry,’ he mutters. ‘We did agree I'm a douche.’  
  
Pleased with the slight upturn of Lucifer’s mouth, Dan closes his eyes tightly and tries to concentrate on the damn collar. He feels like an idiot. After several minutes of thinking hard enough to give himself a headache, Dan opens his eyes. Lucifer is looking at him, unimpressed, the damn collar still closed around his neck.  
  
Lucifer sighs. ‘Come here’ he says, beckoning with one casual hand. Dan frowns before hopping his seat an inch or so closer, still leaving a good foot space. Lucifer rolls his eyes before rising and moving to stand directly in front of Dan, between his parted thighs, neck at Dan's eye level.  
  
Dan starts in surprise and Lucifer reaches for Dan’s hands and mutters, ‘May I?’ Unknowingly, Dan nods. Lucifer, with agonising slowness bordering on tenderness - or reluctance, tugs Dan’s hands up to lay them on his collar.  
  
Dan stares at him, wide-eyed. ‘What are you doing?’  
  
Lucifer's dark, seemingly bottomless eyes stare down into his. His face, thinks Dan dazedly, has gotten incredibly close to Dan’s. He swallows and attempts to joke. ‘Are we going to make out now?’  
  
Lucifer’s face spasms and his hands freeze around Dan’s. ‘Never,’ he hisses, ‘mention sex around me again.’ There’s something in his growl that speaks of hurt - or fear - along with his wrath. ‘Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. Or at the very least castrate you.’ At his threat, his hands contract tightly around Dan’s and a flash of _something_ \- God, _pain_ \- darts across his face, tightening his mouth and eyes as though he were being punished, as though the bond was extracting penance.  
  
Dan feels about two inches tall. ‘Sorry!’ He blurts, helplessly. ‘I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again.’  
  
Lucifer snorts disparagingly, clearly doubting Dan _ever_ thinks, but his hands have softened and he looks less, well, terrified. Dan wishes he could cut out his own tongue sometimes. Hell, he thinks bitterly, Lucifer would probably help him with that.  
  
‘So,’ he says cautiously, gut still twisting with shame and embarrassment, ‘Um, what is this in aid of?’ His hands clench helplessly around the cold metal of the damned collar. He really wants to stop touching it.  
  
Lucifer eyes him before slowly and just very slightly arching his neck back, inadvertently baring his throat to a startled Dan. His voice when he speaks, reverberates down the long column of his throat, tickling against Dan's lax fingertips, while Dan stares, open mouthed. ‘Helping you visualise,’ says Lucifer matter-of-factly.  
  
Yeah, thinks Dan dimly. He's not sure if he can take much more of this ‘help’.  
  
‘Close your eyes, please,’ Lucifer’s voice is low, almost hypnotic, putting Dan in mind of one of those weird sleep-while-you-learn tapes. ‘Focus on the collar, on the details, the metal, the feel of it.’ Lucifer pauses for a moment. ‘How _you_ feel about it and how you would like it to be. Then _change_ it.’  
  
Dan reluctantly obeys, allowing the smooth cadence of Lucifer’s voice carry him away. He thinks of the collar, the ugly, rough-hewn grey, heavy and punishing on Lucifer’s stupidly graceful neck. How he wants it gone, or at least less damn awful. Almost despite himself he remembers a case he worked, maybe ten years ago as a beat cop. He and Malcolm (freaking Malcolm) had been called to a rave, filled to the brim with young, annoyingly gorgeous men and women, largely high out of their skulls. Distantly he recalls one such man he’d caught a glimpse of as he was leaving, a thin, dark-haired young guy with multiple tattoos and piercings - and a collar, sleek and silver resting against his fragile-seeming clavicles.

Dan doesn’t know why his mind had gone there, now of all times - he hadn't thought of that kid for years. He's just about to refocus his attention on the task at hand, when Lucifer makes a small sound, almost of surprise.  
  
Dan opens his eyes and starts. The collar, vicious and unsightly, is gone. Now, in its place, lies a sleek little necklace thing eerily similar to the one he had seen all those years ago. Silver and shiny and barely an inch thick, it lies innocuously at the base of Lucifer’s throat, gleaming softly in the light. Unconsciously, Dan reaches out to trail his fingers across its rim in wonder.  
  
But Lucifer abruptly steps away from him, leaving Dan's hands hanging foolishly in the empty space between them. He's scowling.  
  
Dan drops his arms self-consciously and clears his throat, which appears to be unusually tight. ‘So,’ he says unsteadily. ‘That worked.’  
  
Lucifer aims a cool look at him before striding over to nearby golden-framed mirror and assessing it critically, turning his head from side to side.  
  
He snorts at his reflection. ‘Really?’ He says dryly. ‘I tell you to pick something less hideous and you come up with some neo-hipster douche-y BDSM playboy’s wet dream?’  
  
Dan chokes slightly. ‘Wet dr- Hey no, I just - it was in my head for some reason, okay, that's all!’  
  
Lucifer scoffs. ‘Oh I'm sure it was, Daniel, I'm sure it was.’ He eyes it again in the mirror, gingerly sliding a finger under it as if assessing for breathing room. ‘Well,’ he says eventually with a huff. ‘I suppose it’ll just have to do.’ He turns and gives Dan a long look before saying, tiredly and with poor grace, ‘Thank you.’  
  
Dan just nods uncertainly.  
  
It's as they're staring at each other, Lucifer looking half dead on his feet and Dan frankly feeling not much better that a sound jerks their attention to Chloe’s bedroom.  
-  
  
There's a beat where they both stare stupidly in the direction of Chloe’s bedroom before Dan urgently grabs at Lucifer’s arm. ‘She can’t know,’ he says unthinking, mind fixed on _Chloe_ and _home_ .  
  
Lucifer glares, mouth tight but nods once. ‘Of course,’ he says sharply.  
  
Dan gradually releases his arm, thoughts frayed, casting an absent look at Lucifer before stumbling, almost in a daze, towards her bedroom. After a moment he senses Lucifer following in his wake.  
  
Chloe is stirring in the bed, face caught in a shaft of light from between her blinds.

Sun rise, Dan thinks faintly.

He watches, as she grumbles sleepily at the light falling on her face. She looks - great. The gaunt, drawn look she had sported in the hospital and the hours that followed had now been replaced by faintly flushed cheeks and an almost glowing complexion.  
  
As they wait, Dan lingering beside her bed on tenterhooks while Lucifer looms at the foot of her bed like a dark concerned shadow, her eyelids flutter. She stretches unconsciously, still half in the realm of dreams.  
  
Finally, God, _finally_ her eyes open fully, bright and blue and full of life and Dan’s heart leaps. She runs a hand through her hair before suddenly sitting up, apparently sensing she isn't alone. Every bit the cop even when waking from a goddamn supernatural curse.    
  
She stares at the scene in her room, at Dan, her ex, friend and co-parent, crouched next to her, face drawn and Lucifer, her _partner_ , in, oh so many senses, hovering near the door, looking _wrecked_ and horribly disheveled, a weird new gleam at his neck.  
  
Chloe frowns, abruptly wide awake and thoroughly confused. ‘Dan? Lucifer? What are you guys doing in my room? What’s happened?’  
  
Dan shifts guiltily, eyes darting to Lucifer whose face looks unreadable. ‘You don't remember?’ he tries.  
  
Chloe squints at him. ‘No? What time is it?’ She looks down at her clock. ‘Dan, it's five in the morning! What's going on?’  
  
Dan swallows nervously, but before he can even begin to formulate an excuse, Lucifer moves closer to the bed, eyes sharp.  
  
‘How are you feeling, Detective?’ His voice is low and urgent.  
  
Chloe frowns at him, clearly puzzled but willing to humour him for now. ‘I’m fine,’ she says in automatic dismissal, before frowning as if in realisation. ‘No wait, actually, I do feel fine.’ She blinks, surprised. ‘I feel more rested than I have for ages. Just how long have I been asleep?’  
  
Lucifer clutches at the bed railing, suddenly sagging as though the strings holding him up had been severed. His head sinks down, relief visible in his entire ragged silhouette.  
  
Chloe stares at him, now obviously concerned. She hurriedly swings her legs over the side of the bed to go to him. ‘Lucifer, are you okay?’  
  
Dan gazes between the two of them, suddenly feeling ancient and sick. At Chloe’s query, Lucifer's head wearily rises and he flicks an almost compulsive look at Dan.  
  
They stare at each other for a tense moment before Lucifer puts on a tight grin and says, ‘Of course, Detective. Why wouldn't I be?’

Chloe eyes him disbelievingly before she starts and stares down at her bare legs, at the hospital gown brushing against her knees. She picks at it, eyebrows coming together. ‘Why am I wearing a hospital gown?

At Chloe’s confused and suspicious look and the expression on Lucifer’s face, desperate and almost _broken_ , Dan's stomach twists uncomfortably. He clears his throat and hastily interjects before there can be any more _questions_.

‘Hey, Lucifer, thanks for, um, staying, it’s really good of you, man, but maybe you should go and, er, get some sleep.’

Dan avoids Chloe’s bewildered gazes and tries to give Lucifer a meaningful and imploring look.

But Lucifer just stares at him, mouth tight and eyes dark, before nodding curtly and, thank God, stepping away, towards the door.

‘Of course,’ he says shortly before turning and - without even a last glance at Chloe - striding out of the room, leaving a puzzled partner and Dan, abruptly guilty and horribly, awfully relieved behind him.


	8. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer... _reacts_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your wonderful comments! As always much appreciated and loved. :D
> 
> Bit of a shorter chapter today with a longer one to follow on Friday! Hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> Warnings for angst and sex toys (only with Lucifer would this combo be a thing, honestly).

It's late when Lucifer gets home to Lux. Or perhaps very early, the first strands of pink streaming through the windows of his penthouse.

As the lift doors close behind him he surveys the room as though he had been absent for years instead of mere hours. Had it only been that afternoon when he’d heard the news of the Detective’s accident? Not even half a day had passed. But everything had changed.

Lucifer slowly walks towards his bar and mechanically pours himself a drink, numbly clutching at the glass.

At least the Detective had been saved. That was the one bright spot in this miasma of dark and suffering. But at what cost?

Sitting at his bar, Lucifer grimly fancies he can feel the bond already, tugging at his thoughts, his emotions and his very sense of self and _twisting_. Already he imagines he can feel the urge to submit, to _obey_ hounding his mind, luring him in with the temptation of blissful acceptance and love - if he just pays the price. His hand unconsciously drifts to the collar at his neck, imagining it tightening, suffocating him as it marks him a slave for eternity to another's will.

Daniel’s will.

With a snarl, Lucifer lashes out, swiping his glass and several bottles of priceless liquor off the bar and dashing them against the marble walls. He wants to smash and burn and _destroy_ until there is nothing left, nothing in all the realms.

In a frenzy of wrath he's barely even cognizant of, Lucifer demolishes the room, pulverising glass and wood and marble until, exhausted, he sinks onto his now rickety piano bench.

At some point he must have chucked a bookshelf, because the normally glossy ebony of Lucifer’s grand piano is marred with splinters and paper, torn fragments of papyrus and ancient wisdom contrasting with black wood.

And Lucifer feels-

He feels.

He buries his head in his hands over the shattered lid of the piano and comes the closest he has been to tears since the death of his brother. Behind his closed eyelids he feels wave upon wave of frustration, rage, hurt and loss, burning through him and stinging his eyes.

A groan, shockingly loud and nearly animalistic, echoes over the clink of shattered glass and the drip of whiskey on tile as he presses the heels of his palms furiously against his eyelids, almost hoping to put out his eyes rather than give in to the pain.

After a few long minutes the pain gradually abates as it always eventually does, as it once used to in those long interminable millennia in Hell, leaving him feeling drained and empty, a used up shell.

He snorts bitterly. That's all he is now, isn’t it. Perhaps all he ever was.

As though in a trance, he rises and walks through the debris of his home and the life he's built here. Without entirely meaning to, he finds himself out on the balcony staring up at the dawn sky.

For a moment he's silent, raw hurt snaking up his throat causing it to ache impossibly. When he speaks his voice is hoarse and ragged.

‘Is this what you wanted?’ He waits for an answer, but of course there is none forthcoming.

He scoffs bitterly. ‘I've got to say, _Dad_ , well played. I never knew you had the stones.’ He shakes his head almost disbelievingly, eyes bright.

‘To put someone - Chloe - here, specifically in my path and then to take her away, just like that, the moment you knew I had - ha - fallen.’ He smiles twistedly, hands clutching tightly at the balcony railing. ‘I take my hat off to you, I really do. The breadth of your plan, the-’ he laughs, ‘-truly wicked depth of your cruelty.’ He waves a hand, almost overcome. ‘Well, I suppose I know now where I got my more sadistic side.’

Lucifer rocks back on his heels and raises his eyebrows, face dark and bitter. ‘Funny, I always suspected it might have been from Mum.’

He releases the railing, keeping his gaze fixed on the lightening sky.

‘Well, kudos. Really. You've made your point, and with such style! I'm sure you'll enjoy the show from your silver bloody tower. You've got what you always wanted,’ he looks away, hand thumping hard once at his chest. ‘You've finally broken me, you miserable bastard!’

As he turns away, hands buried deep in his pockets, clenched tightly into fists, he abruptly whirls around, pointing up at the heavens. ‘But guess what? I get the last laugh. I may be bound to eternal, mindless obedience now - but not to you. Chew on that, _father._ ’

And with a final vicious grin, Lucifer walks slowly back into the remains of the home he had made for himself, uncaring of the distant rumble of thunder at the horizon.

After all he has a nap to take, as per the instructions of his shiny new _Master_.

-

‘Goddamn stupid mother-’

The crash of dishes and hissed curse words greet Choe as she makes her way to the breakfast counter. On top of the microwave, Trixie’s digital Mickey Mouse clock helplessly flashes _03:33_ in scarlet, a remnant from the apparently freak power failure the night before.

One in a _series_ of ‘freak’ events from the sound of things, Chloe thinks dryly.

Over the sink and lit in the golden light of morning, Maze is furiously scrubbing at Chloe’s cutlery like a woman possessed- or, well, a demon possessed, anyway. (Can demons get possessed? Actually, wait, is possession a real thing that happens? Is _Maze_ possessing someone? Chloe files these questions away for another day, preferably one when Maze was further away from knives)

As she watches Maze _demolish_ rather than wash her dishes, Chloe’s eyebrows raise. In her experience of Maze (which is sadly extensive and unlikely to end anytime soon), only two things are likely to drive Mazikeen ‘Smith’ to cleaning. One: threats of eviction, and the other-

The sort of anger and hurt that even daggers can’t help with.

Casting a wary eye over the trail of shredded tea towels and shattered plates, Chloe edges around her kitchen table. ‘Maze?’ she asks, cautiously.

The furious hands stop, one sacrificed butter knife half-bent into either a pretzel or a pentagram. ‘What.’

Chloe hovers awkwardly, worried but fully aware that any expressions of concern will probably result in scoffing, a rude rebuffal followed by mockery for good measure. Something about Maze’s posture makes her pause - her deceptively narrow shoulders are tight, her expression not _quite_ as closed off as she is probably going for. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes.’ A crash signals the demise of another of Chloe’s plates. Chloe crosses her arms. ‘Really?’ she returns skeptically.

‘Why wouldn't I be?’ Maze snaps as she roughly hurls the blender into the sink, oblivious to Chloe’s wince.

‘You tell me,’ Chloe retorts. At Maze’s silence, Chloe frowns in exasperation. ‘Come on, Maze, something’s clearly going on. I got woken up this morning at 5 o’clock by the Devil and my ex - neither of whom live with me, by the way - hanging out in my bedroom looking like they’d collectively either been run over by a truck or murdered Rex and couldn’t find a way to tell me.’

Maze halts her rapid movements and turns to squint at Chloe. ‘Who’s Rex?’

Chloe stares back at her. ‘Trixie’s goldfish. You know, the one I keep asking you to feed?’ At Maze’s continued blank look, Chloe’s eyes narrow. ‘The one you _told_ me you’d help Trixie feed?’

‘Oh that thing.’ Maze seems unimpressed. ‘Thought you said ‘feed it _to_ Trixie?’ At Chloe’s glare, she gives an unrepentant half-shrug. ‘What, she likes fish.’

‘Funny,’ says Chloe, before slumping into a chair, face creased in concern. ‘I’m serious, Maze. What happened? Because the last thing I remember is picking Trixie up at school yesterday and now she’s at a hotel with my mom, of all people, because I was in a _coma_. None of this is making any sense. Dan’s being weird and Lucifer isn’t even returning my calls. Again. So what, in the name of God, happened?’

To her surprise,  _that_ garners a response. Maze barks a harsh laugh and tosses her cleaning rag into the sink. ‘God,’ she repeats bitterly. ‘Good one.’

‘Maze,’ Chloe starts, surprised by her anger.

Maze cuts her off. ‘You wanna know what happened, ask Lucifer,’ she bites out. ‘It’s not like anyone cares what I think, anyway.’

‘Maze-’

Maze snags her leather jacket and marches to the door, jaw tight. At Chloe’s startled call, she stops. Her expression is tight, but there’s something just a little bit softer in her eyes.

‘I’m glad you’re okay, Chloe,’ she says, surprisingly sincere for once.

Then she shuts the door, leaving Chloe - standing frazzled and confused beside her kitchen counter - with more questions than answers.

-

‘You really did it.’

Lucifer’s eyes flick open. He’s lying in his bed, sadly alone but for the bloody great shadow looming over him.

‘Good morning to you too, brother,’ he grumbles. Sitting up, his hand reflexively goes to the collar wrapped around his throat, surprised and horrified despite himself. After a moment, he clears his throat and he does his best to ignore Amenadiel hulking at the foot of his bed like a giant lump.

‘Lucifer-’

‘Save it.’

Amenadiel crosses his ridiculous arms, looking a cross between concerned and constipated.

‘What were you thinking?’ His tone sounds to Lucifer like one of condemnation.

Lucifer huffs and ignores him, yanking off yesterday’s (disgustingly wrinkled) shirt as he stands. He needs a shower. Actually he needs all the showers.

Amenadiel’s voice rises behind him at being ignored. ‘Lucifer -’

‘What?!’ Lucifer’s whirls around, furious. ‘What would you like to say, brother? That this is wrong? That I made a mistake? That I’m trapped in this bond for all _eternity_? What, brother - please do enlighten me, I am dying to know your opinion.’ His breath seems loud and ragged to his own ears as his shout reverberates around the high arches of his bedchamber.

But looking at his brother, Amenadiel doesn’t seem angry or judgmental as Lucifer expected. Instead he just looks... Well. _Sad_.

‘Luci,’ he says, eyes stupidly big in his remarkably plain face. ‘Lucifer. Are you alright?’

-

Amenadiel should have known better than assuming Lucifer would do anything but rebuff his attempts to commiserate. Of course, Lucifer just scoffs and turns to rifle through his chest of drawers for an electrical shaver. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Amenadiel takes his time sitting down on the vacated bed, expression schooled into something concerned without falling into pity. He muses for a moment- it’s difficult to find anything comforting to say (Father didn’t build him for _tact_ , okay). He opens his mouth, and settles a hand down on the bed, only to give a unmanly squeak as it inadvertently comes into contact something that looks suspiciously like a miniature model whale penis.

This is _exactly_ why he never comes into Lucifer’s bedroom.

Thankfully by the time Lucifer turns around, looking puzzled, Amenadiel has flung the horrible thing away and looks mostly composed. He steels himself for a bout of his brother’s mockery, but to his surprise - and concern - none is forthcoming.

His brother looks, Amenadiel thinks, not unlike he did when he first left Hell, the shadows deep and dark under his eyes, demeanour hunted.

‘Surprised you’re even talking to me,’ drawls Lucifer, tone needle sharp.

Amenadiel is taken aback. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Lucifer snorts. ‘Well, here I am, enslaved.’ He waves a hand to encompass his body, collar and all. ‘Hell of a demotion. Last time I found myself chained up at Dad’s behest you didn’t talk to me for a few millennia.’

Amenadiel shifts awkwardly. ‘That was different,’ he says at last. At Lucifer’s unimpressed look, he acknowledges, ‘we were different then. _I_ was different.’ He pauses and watches his brother, the guilt he had been feeling on and off ever since - well, ever since he Fell, really - rearing its ugly head.

‘Look, Luci. I may not agree with what you did, your choices-’

‘Choices?’ Lucifer snaps incredulously. ‘You mean the choice to do this or let the Detective perish at the hands of our father?’

Amenadiel winces. ‘We don’t actually know it’s Him behind this,’ he attempts weakly.

Lucifer snorts, the metal shaver in his hand glinting in the lights. ‘No of course, I always suspected Bob the _ice cream_ man was behind it all.’ He pauses as Amenadiel’s face scrunches up in  confusion. ‘Face it, brother. _I_ have. Who else would be this bloody vindictive?’

Amenadiel moves his hand in a so-so gesture. ‘Well,’ he says hesitantly, ‘I hate to say it, but Mo-’

‘It’s Dad,’ Lucifer interrupts flatly, slamming the shaver down on a cupboard and turning away from Amenadiel to face the window. There’s a long silence before he turns back, his voice tinged with a pain other angels might have missed - that _Amenadiel_ might have missed not too long ago - when he finally speaks. ‘When is it _not_?’

His eyes flash red and Amenadiel decides that discretion might indeed be the better part of valour. ‘Maybe it’s not permanent,’ he says at last, lost for anything else to say to take the hate from his brother’s eyes. His hands smooth at the covers absently. Soft, each thread barely detectable in its tight weave, a pattern so delicate that the small details get lost in the bigger tapestry. Their Father’s picture in miniature.

He tries not to think about what exactly might be staining the fabric.

Lucifer snorts and turns away to grab his toiletries and irritably recollect his shaver. ‘Since when are you such a bloody optimist?’ 

Amenadiel can only watch as Lucifer stomps away, can only follow the glinting light as it dances beneath Lucifer’s soft dark curls, rebounding from the deceptively thin metal collar around his neck.

He barely holds back a flinch when the bathroom door shuts behind his little brother with a belligerent snap.

The room is silent, Amenadiel left alone with a truly _horrifying_  large collection of what he's beginning to suspect may actually be sex toys (is that a car battery next to the bookshelf?  _Why?_ And what are those beads? They look strangely like a... rosary.UGH) in Lucifer’s empty bedroom.

Absently, he notices Lucifer’s cell phone, abandoned by his wayward brother on the satin coverlet. Before his eyes, it keeps buzzing, screen flashing to life, and, in the dim light of the bedroom - a veritable den of sin if ever Amenadiel saw one - the image of Chloe Decker’s unsmiling face stares up at him.

 _Well_.

‘Since the Devil decided to fall in love, apparently.’

The room doesn’t answer back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this chapter and the next one took a bit longer to post may have been because I decided to re-write it to make it a bit less, er, _sad_ , while accrues facepalmed at me. Story of our lives, really. 
> 
> My favourite tag for this fic (or anything really) will always be 'accrues to fix'. :P #loveyourcoauthorweek


	9. Return of the Homeless Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe begins to investigates her own coma. The men in her life prove as helpful in this endeavour as she might have anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late - unfortunately work has been a tad trying of late. However! For those who enjoy fun, cracky, Lucidan sexy times, we can promise a sequel to ‘Valentine’s Dan’ is now unexpectedly on the horizon (if Dan ever stops whining and lets Lucifer play with his handcuffs). :P
> 
> Bit of shorter lead in chapter today with a longer chapter soon. :D
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and hope you enjoy the next bit! :D

Dan is lying to her - _again -_ and Chloe wants answers.

Ever since her ‘accident’ three days ago - of which the details are sketchy at best and downright suspicious at worst - Chloe can’t shake the feeling that something terrible has gone down that she isn't privy to.

Firstly there's the so-called accident itself. Apparently - from what little she'd been able to glean from a disturbingly evasive Dan, a tearful Trixie and her concerned Mom - she had just _stopped_ in her car while picking up Trix.

Not as in stopped the car. As in _Chloe_ had stopped _in_ the car.

One minute, according to Trixie, she had been talking normally about their day, their plans for the weekend and the new lizard thing Trixie’s teacher had brought in, the next she had passed out on her steering wheel.

No warning. Nobody around. Just nothing. Thank God she hadn’t been driving, is all she can think.

Luckily Dan, late as ever, had found her and called 911.

And then this is where the story - Dan’s story - gets especially fuzzy.

According to his version of events, he had thought - for some baffling reason - that she would recuperate way better at home than in a hospital filled with highly qualified staff and had gotten ‘permission’ to take her off the premises to allow her to convalesce in the comfort of her own bed.

According to Dan, she had had a nice, completely uneventful sleep - despite a statewide hour long power outage that _still_ hasn't quite been fixed - and woken recharged and miraculously better the next day. With Lucifer there.

And this is where Dan’s story - for Chloe Decker, an experienced homicide detective, thank you very much, _knows_ it's a story - really begins to develop holes.

When questioned about why he and Lucifer had been in her bedroom in the small hours of the morning, looking like a bus had hit them and then backed over them a couple of times for good measure, Dan had been… shifty.

When she'd made noises about heading back to hospital to get her test results he had been hastily dismissive.

When she'd asked why Lucifer, looking half dead on his feet had all but fled her home at five in the morning, Dan had seemed both obviously miserable and profoundly dodgy.

And then there’s Lucifer, her partner - and possibly, her _partner_ \- who had completely ignored her texts, calls and (increasingly worried) voicemails over the weekend.

And now, come Monday morning, here he is, back at work and looking like the lovechild of a train-wreck and a car crash.

This can’t possibly be good.

-

‘Well, _he’s_ not going to be getting it up in a hurry!’

Lucifer’s voice is slurred as he manages a leer at, in Chloe’s humble opinion, one of the dimmer new recruits. Said new recruit grins backs, as though star-truck by Chloe’s, okay, _maybe_ somewhat handsome partner.

It would be cute, she thinks irritably, if the rookie wasn’t maybe eighteen and if Lucifer wasn’t practically throwing himself at the girl over a _corpse_.

Chloe grabs his elbow and tugs him away, this close to growling and nabbing him by the ear. She steadfastly ignores his indignant yelp of ‘Detective!’ as she drags him well out of the rookie’s earshot.

Safely away from the crime scene and all the evidence Lucifer was no doubt about to trample all over (because that’s _definitely_ why she’s mad, Chloe reminds herself), she lets go of him. ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’

‘Whatever do you mean, Detective?’ Lucifer blinks at her, the very picture of wounded innocence.

Or he would be, she thinks critically, if he didn’t look like he was gearing up for Act Two: Return of the Homeless Magician (back by unpopular demand).

Chloe frowns and takes him in. He looks off his head on _something_. She’d have thought he was drunk if she hadn't been forced to rote learn his spiel on angelic - or rather devilish - metabolism through sheer annoying repetition. His jacket is missing, his shirt wrinkled and untucked, and he’s sporting a weird new choker thing.

Wait, isn’t that the necklace he was wearing the night he’d run off like the - ha - devil was on his tail?

Her brow furrows in confusion - and (maybe) just a hint of hurt. He’s behaving even more wildly inappropriate than normal. She _had_ thought that they were past this by now, that they’d finally reached a place in their friendship/partnership/whatever-ship that they could _talk_ like normal people. Or, you know, at least as close to normal as they could get.

Okay, so Chloe _knows_ she’s not the poster-girl for healthy communication, not after what happened with her ill-fated marriage (thanks so much, Dan). And between her issues and Lucifer’s, well, being _Lucifer_ , they were always going to be in for problems every now and then, but she wasn’t expecting him to still, what- to not _trust_ her?

Watching him do this, seeing him shut her out - it hurts, Chloe realises, more than she’s willing to admit. Seeing him act like their work, solving crimes, making a difference, _everything_ , doesn’t matter. Like they don’t matter. Her throat burns with something hot and tight, like disappointment. She just really thought they were past this.

But then she looks at him, looks past her hurt, her worry and reflexive anger and _really_ looks at him, taking in shadowed eyes and drawn, tense features.

No. He _has_ been better than this, after they talked, after he’d shown her his _other_ face. She has faith in him and them, in their friendship if nothing else.  

This isn’t just him pulling away or being difficult or Lucifer-y. The last time he had imploded on himself like this something had really been wrong, he had been in a world of pain and something - something was _definitely_ wrong today.

She draws closer, face concerned and hand falling to rest on his shirt-sleeved arm. ‘Lucifer? What’s happened? What’s wrong?’

Lucifer licks his lips, looking taken aback and almost - ashamed? His long back hunches a bit, like he always seems to when he wants to diminish his (frankly ridiculous) height for her.

‘Detective, ‘ he starts, voice low and uneven. ‘I-it’s-’

But before he gets any further, his gaze seems to snag on something over her shoulder and, right before her very eyes, he just clams up.

‘Oh, would you look at the time?’ He babbles, managing to avoid her gaze. ‘Oh dear, nearly forgot my noon hairdressing appointment, can’t miss it. So sorry, must dash!’

And, heedless of Chloe’s baffled response of ‘but it’s only nine’, he all but runs for the hills.

‘What the hell?’ mutters Chloe to herself before turning to work out what on earth had shut him up so suddenly.

And, in the distance, Dan lurks guiltily by the van.

Chloe’s eyes narrow.  

Oh she is going to get to the bottom of this if it _kills_ her.

Or Dan.

Or Lucifer.

At this stage she's not picky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erya needs as much love as you can provide because she's been stressed and harassed and bullied by this thing called 'work'. - accrues
> 
> accrues will always be my favourite cheerleader and long-suffering partner in crime. <3 - Erya


	10. (Alligator) Infested Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer ponders escape while Dan nurses a guilty conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter today! So sorry for the delay, life has been interesting. :P
> 
> Thank you for all your amazing comments! Hope you enjoy this chapter. :D
> 
> Warnings for angst and, er, vague references to animal sacrifice? :P

It wouldn't be quite so awful, thinks Lucifer, if he was the Devil he was just a mere five years ago.

Unattached, uncaring, footloose and fancy free, why if anyone had even _thought_ about trapping him like this, he would have had Maze string ‘em up by their heels and have her fun until they begged to be relieved of their tongues. And if that failed, he could have used one of about seven arcane wonderfully twisted bits of spellwork to wrench this blasted bond into something altogether more… favourable to his devilishly handsome self.

To be fair, most of them required a blood sacrifice (and at least one a dead puppy - Lucifer had never actually been one for sacrifices, blood or otherwise) but the point still stands.

He really should be trying to get out of this - come hell or high water, whatever the means, whatever the damage. The Devil he was five years ago wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But then, if this was five years ago he wouldn't be in this wretched mess.

Lucifer huffs out a bitter sigh and takes a swig of his whisky, fingers absently drumming on his bar.

The first two days after the binding had passed in something of daze for Lucifer: going through the motions, arguing with Amenadiel, being ignored by Maze and simultaneously ignoring the Detective, watching his phone buzz and buzz and buzz with her calls until finally he'd picked the blasted thing up and thrown it against the wall just to silence the godawful racket.

He'd thought about leaving. Of just picking up his most precious possessions (which, when it came down to it seemed distressingly few) and hightailing it before - well. Before things got nasty.

He'd even got a travel bag out and started packing before he stopped, hand clenched tight around, of all ridiculous things, a stuffed Devil toy the Detective’s spawn had gifted him for (shudder) Christmas.

Then he'd sat on his bed and stared at the stupid thing for what felt like hours. What was the point of leaving, when everything precious to him was here?

By which Lucifer obviously means the - currently horrendously dented - piano. What else?

It’s incredibly hard to pack up a piano after all. Lucifer had discovered this during one particularly excellent punishment involving a mime ‘artist’, a scaffold and a baby grand.

If only he could bring himself to gather up even one tenth of the feared and (naturally) completely merciless Lord he once was, he could do all manner of vicious, deliriously deviant things to his so-called Master and - even if he couldn't undo the spell altogether - make sure Dan could never hurt him, render _dear Daniel_ incapable of even thinking an order.

And there were so many possibilities too for Daniel’s swift _incapacitation_. So many delicious ways to torment (tarring and feathering was always a blast), remove (incarceration! Easily done - the man had literally committed murders!) or (at the very least) dumping the douche in some alligator-filled swamp a few states away.

All he had to do was pick up the phone, make a few calls, collect a few tiny, insignificant little favours and Dan could be out of his hair, for at _least_ a few good years.

But something stayed his hand.

He couldn’t do it. Worse, he didn’t even _want_ to do it.

Well. No more than he _usually_ wanted to dump Daniel in an alligator-filled swamp.

Must be the bond, Lucifer decided. There was certainly no other reason he could fathom being reluctant to visit pain, torment and general disaster on someone so inherently - _Dan_.

He had considered at least staying (definitely not hiding, purely strategy) in Lux for the next few decades - even tried doing so Sunday through Monday morning, but all that happened was that he got bored silly, thoroughly soused and, before he even knew it, was trotting right back over to the latest crime scene like a good little consultant.

Which had worked bloody fine if you ask Lucifer. He worked as perfectly as always, his perception and insights into the case as scintillating and penetrating (ha!) as ever. Anyone would surely be hard pressed to tell that anything at all was awry in the land of Lucifer.

But then the Detective had looked at him and he was - gone.

All Chloe had to do was take him aside, all eyes and warmth and so wonderfully, perfectly alive, and all his hard-won bitterness and hate and rage had just drained out of him, leaving him feeling disturbingly empty and blank.

And then there was bloody Daniel. Because the of course the ridiculous douche almighty didn't even have the decency to leave him be, so Lucifer had been forced to flee rather than endure his orders - or worse, Lucifer thinks grimly, his pity.

It was all definitely Dan’s fault. And Dad’s. And probably bloody Mum’s.

And-

-his.

Lucifer huffs and, for the first time, reluctantly concedes his own sorry part. This was his choice, for better or worse. A terrible, horrible choice made in a set of circumstances practically designed to destroy him (good ol’ Dad), yes, but - his choice.

Daniel may be a douche and a colossal moron but he didn’t force Lucifer’s hand. Well, not with _creating_ the damn binding anyway.

It’s not _all_ Dan’s fault.

Lucifer glares resentfully down into his chipped and now empty tumbler.

Can’t leave. Can’t stay. Can’t kill the douche or feed him to alligators.

What does that leave?

More alcohol, he decides. Wherever did he put the bourbon?

Maybe after the next bottle, he could reconsider the alligators.

-

Dan feels awful.

He had spent the last three days oscillating wildly between a state of profound relief that Chloe was clearly well again and crushing guilt. Guilt over lying to her. Guilt over what he - and Lucifer - had done to cure her, what he had done _to_ Lucifer. And guilt as he belatedly realised that despite promising not to take advantage, vowing to himself and to Lucifer that he would not even _consider_ ordering Lucifer about, what had he done but just that. He had all but forced Lucifer out of Chloe’s house - out of his sick _girlfriend_ ’s house. God.

In his defence, Dan tells himself firmly, he hadn't actually _meant_ to do so. Didn't even realise he _had_ done it until he heard the sound of Chloe’s front door closing echoed in her tiny bedroom. But by then it was too late.

Dan has tried very, very hard not to dwell on the deep, dark suspicion, the nagging fear that maybe, just maybe, he _had_ meant to do it. That the same dark, ruthless part of him that was capable of not only murder, but of lying, of _gaslighting_ the woman he loved during the Palmetto disaster was just as capable today of destroying Lucifer’s trust and friendship.

That thought had kept him up, tossing and turning as he tried to convince himself that the spur of the moment mistake was just that - a mistake.

He had warred with himself, torn between calling Lucifer and maybe - fixing things _somehow_ , but in the end common sense (definitely not cowardice) had won out. He decided that, after the night they had just had, after the tension and awful, irrevocable change in their relationship, he should give Lucifer some... space. Dan had firmly told himself he didn't want to spook Lucifer or give him the sense that Dan wanted anything more than to remain his good sort-of-friend and long-suffering coworker. Best to give him some time, Dan reasoned sensibly. No need to rush things.

But now, looking at Lucifer drift around the bullpen, disheveled and obviously a hot mess, Dan suspects he's gone and screwed up yet again.

And to make matters worse Chloe is eying him, obviously suspicious.

She corners Dan in the empty break room just after lunch. Because of course she does.

‘Okay,’ she says, hands on hips, ‘What did you do?’

Dan eyes her warily over his cup of coffee. ‘...recently?’

Chloe is unamused. ‘To Lucifer, Dan. He’s avoiding you like the plague. Which is really saying something, given he insists he’s lived through actual plagues.’

‘Lucifer’s not avoiding me!’ Okay, Dan probably could’ve sounded more convincing there.

Chloe crosses her arms. ‘Dan, he's spent the whole day ducking behind cubicle partitions to avoid eye contact with you. He flees the room when you enter. He's literally hiding in the bathroom _right this minute_.’

Dan swallows and nervously taps his fingers on his mug, back suddenly hard up against the wall. When did that happen?

Chloe sighs. She looks, thinks Dan guiltily, tired and worried as well as _pissed_.

‘I know you've been lying to me, Dan,’ she says, in a far too even tone. ‘About whatever happened to me on Thursday and whatever’s now going on with Lucifer. I need you to be honest with me.’ She takes a breath and looks at him, right in the eyes as Dan squirms. ‘I can't take another Palmetto Street, Dan.’

Dan winces, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When Chloe decides to go for the jugular she really goes for it.

Finally he clears his throat and sets his coffee down. ‘It's complicated,’ he says.

Chloe nods, looking unimpressed. ‘It always is, Dan. I'm a smart girl, I can cope. Now spill.’

Dan spills.

-

Chloe takes the whole sorry story with great aplomb, Dan thinks, barely batting an eye apart from the whole ‘ _God_ wants me dead’, ‘God wants _me_ dead’, ‘God wants me _dead_ ’ thing. But when Dan gets to explaining the binding spell (mumble slavery mumble), he see the cracks starting to form in her calm facade.

‘You did _what_? That sounds bad, Dan.’

Dan nods, almost unwillingly. ‘Yeah, that's what I said.’

Chloe hesitates, clearly thinking it through. Her arms are still crossed across her chest as though to either protect or comfort herself. ‘You said it's like slavery. Like he's... your slave.’

Dan rubs his mouth harshly and then says, quietly, ‘Yeah.’

Chloe stares at him, blue eyes wide and dark. ‘That’s wrong, Dan,’ she says eventually, with a tone of judgment, of finality.

Dan tries and fails to suppress a flinch and looks away, hands moving to his hips defensively. ‘I- _we_ didn't have a choice, Chloe. It was either this or you,’ his voice chokes, ‘died. Is that you would have wanted ? What you would have wanted for Trixie, for her to lose her mother?’ His voice comes out sharper than he intended and he stops, shifting uncomfortably.

Chloe frowns, eyes hard. ‘Of course not, Dan, but at what price?’ She takes a deep breath and expels it roughly. ‘This just sounds awful.’

Dan tenses and gazes at the floor. ‘Yeah. It is awful.’

Chloe unfolds her arms, a worried crease forming on her brow. ‘How did Lucifer take it? He looks terrible.’

Dan sighs and lowers his chin. He leans against the wall, feeling exhausted. ‘Badly,’ he admits reluctantly. ‘It was - horrible, Chloe.’ He swallows, mind flitting back to that night, to the ‘metaphysical plane’, the chains, the freaking collar, the long hour of negotiating around the spell so Lucifer could seem more like his old self and not just a broken husk. ‘Really messed up,’ he concludes quietly.

Chloe watches him closely, expression pained and concerned. Eventually she nods and murmurs, as though to herself, ‘We need to go talk to him.’

Dan hesitates and looks away. Chloe seems to catch this and her voice sharpens. ‘Dan. Tell me you've spoken to him.’ At Dan’s guilty silence, she folds her arms across her chest and glares furiously. ‘Dan, he's a _wreck_. He's probably scared stiff and miserable. Why have you been avoiding him?’

Dan shifts and mutters, almost sullenly, ‘He's been avoiding _me_.’

Chloe shakes her head disbelievingly. ‘Of course he has,’ she snaps. ‘He's just - you've just _taken_ all his sense of control. God. He's probably scared, who wouldn't be? Besides,’ she adds, ‘He's _Lucifer_.’

As though that explains everything.

It kind of does.

-

Before Dan knows it they're outside Lux, Lucifer apparently having scarpered from the precinct the moment he thought Chloe’s back was turned.

Dan trails in Chloe’s wake as they make their way through the club. Lux is still quiet in the late afternoon as servers prepare for another long night ahead, but there is an edge to the atmosphere, a feeling of anticipation in the air as if everyone is collectively, unknowingly, holding their breath. 

He doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to see Lucifer and make the twisted events of Friday morning a reality in the light of day. But he doesn't have a choice, not with Chloe all but dragging him in by the ear. And besides, he suspects he owes Lucifer, his friend, that much. To face up to what he's done and to perhaps provide what little comfort he can while they all try to adjust.

As the lift doors open to admit them, Chloe freezes beside him with a sharp intake of breath. Dan stares around the penthouse, mouth agape.

The place is a _wreck_ , splinters of wood, shards of glass, papers, white dust and chunks of marble everywhere as though somebody had take a demolition crew to the room. Even the piano - Lucifer’s pride and joy, more beloved to him than a baby (no seriously, he treats that thing better than he does actual children, definitely better than he does _Trixie_ ) - looks fragile and half-crushed in the centre of the room.

As Dan slowly takes in the devastation, mouth still open, Chloe lightly touches his arm and silently points to the balcony, where a tall, dark form stands silhouetted in the fading orange of the sunset.

Lucifer. He has his back turned towards them but something in the rigid way he holds himself tells Dan he definitely knows they're there.

As though in a dream, Dan lets Chloe pull him towards the balcony.

Lucifer doesn't look at them, just takes a slow draught from his glass of amber fluid and gazes out at the horizon.

Chloe releases Dan’s arm and takes a step towards him, face intent and concerned. ‘Lucifer,’ she says, voice gentle and urgent, ‘Are you okay?’

Lucifer snorts and turns slowly to face her. He looks - God, he looks terrible. Face drawn and pale, deep bruised shadows haunting the space under his eyes. His clothes, a far cry from their usual obsessive cat-like fastidiousness, are in disarray, as though he had been sleeping in them for days. And his _eyes_ \- his eyes are dark and cold and as distant as the stars he once ignited.

‘Why wouldn't I be?’ he says dryly to Chloe, face painted faded crimson in the dying light of the day. He ignores Dan completely.

Chloe swallows and folds her arms. She's clearly uncomfortable but, as she always does, ploughs through it to help a friend. Dan wishes he was even a tenth of the person she is. Lucifer won’t even glance at him and it shouldn't hurt but it _does_.

‘I know what happened,’ she says, tone achingly soft. ‘Dan told me everything. Lucifer-’, she hesitates, eyes wide and hurting, ‘I'm so sorry.’

Lucifer doesn’t seem to react to that. He seems to Dan to be almost shut down, unusually guarded for a man who normally wears his heart boldly on his stupidly coutured sleeves. The only sign he’s feeling anything at all is his hand, fingers flexing convulsively on the glass.

Lucifer huffs a cold exhale of air before turning slowly, reluctantly, to face Dan. Dan stares back, unaccountably nervous and full of emotions he can’t even begin to put a name to.

The look on Lucifer’s face is forbidding. ‘What happened to ‘she can’t know’?’ he says, voice bitter and mocking.

Dan winces and catches the tail-end of Chloe’s glare. ‘She asked,’ he says lamely. ‘And she deserved to know, and,’ he acknowledges quietly, ‘you deserve for her to know. I should have-’ he swallows before concluding roughly, ‘I should’ve let you tell her before.’

He pauses suddenly as something occurs to him. ‘Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't even think to check now if you were okay with me telling her about,’ he hesitates and waves an uncertain hand through the two feet of air between them, ‘this,’ he finishes weakly.

Lucifer gives a short dry snort and raises his eyebrows as he takes a sharp sip from his glass. ‘It doesn't matter what I want.’

Dan stares at him and shifts uneasily. Almost against his will, his eyes catch on the gleam of metal at Lucifer’s throat and drop to the _collar_ , lingering on the contrast of bright silver against pristine skin hued red in the glow of sunset.

A snort breaks his concentration and he immediately flushes and guiltily yanks his eyes back up to Lucifer’s cool, judgemental gaze, feeling ridiculously as though he'd just been caught staring at a woman's chest.

Chloe is frowning as though in thought, thankfully having missed the byplay. ‘Of course it matters what you want, Lucifer,’ she says earnestly, face and body language open.

Lucifer’s eyes fall back to her, lingering on her face, on her stubborn worried frown and kind eyes. He almost imperceptibly softens. ‘Well, that's very kind of you to say so, Detective,’ he tells her sardonically, before adding, ‘But I think we all know it's not quite true, is it?’ His tone sounds mockingly delicate to Dan’s ears and is clearly directed at him in accusation.  

Dan lets out a shaky breath and runs his hand across his face. ‘It can be,’ he says desperately. ‘Like we said, we can - work around it, like we did on Thursday.’

Lucifer gives him a brittle glance, mouth tight. ‘Oh, you mean when you ordered me out of the good Detective’s home?’

Dan flinches and licked his lips. ‘I didn't mean to do that, man. It was an accident.’ His words sound weak even to his own ears and his heart sinks when Lucifer grants him a profoundly skeptical look.

Dan swallows, catching the bitterness in his friend's eyes, the tense way he holds himself, ‘You have to believe me, man.’

And Lucifer, to Dan’s confusion, actually grins, tossing back his head in an almost wild laugh. ‘Then I do.’ He drops his head down and gives Dan a twisted smile.

Dan stares baffled before suddenly realising what he just did. ‘Oh God, no,’ he yelps, horrified. ‘That's not what I meant! Crap, I take it back, believe whatever you want - whatever you actually believe,’ he almost babbles.

Lucifer’s shoulders drop, but the manic smile at least thankfully disappears.

Chloe is watching their exchange looking pale and sickened. ‘Oh God,’ she says faintly. ‘It's really true.’

Lucifer tears his eyes from Dan and gives her a sarcastic smile, but his eyes are large and terribly sad. ‘‘Fraid so.’

He bites his lip and stares down into his drink as though it contained the mysteries of the universe. ‘Although, at least this won't be all new to me.’ At their presumably confused faces, he smiles unpleasantly. ‘I served in Heaven since before Time was even invented. I'm sure it won't be that different.’ He looks away and drops a hand to the railing. ‘Just a bit more literal. Still slavery by another name, am I right?’

He raises his glass in a mock toast and drains it.

There's a long pause in the room. Chloe watching Lucifer, eyes big and dark, Dan looking anywhere than at Lucifer and Lucifer staring down into his glass.

Dan can't believe this is it, this is how they end, not after they'd been stronger than ever this past month, after revelations and tentative, growing friendship. He realises, with a turn of his stomach, that he doesn't _want_ it to end. Not like this.

He swallows and takes a small step forwards, towards Lucifer, heart in his mouth. He tries to ignore Lucifer’s wary glance.

‘I'm sorry,’ he says quietly. ‘For this, for everything. I really am.’ He presses on as Lucifer looks away, skeptical and obviously uncomfortable. ‘I- Lucifer, you're my friend. I never wanted to hurt you. I never _want_ to hurt you. But,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘It's all I seem to do. Hurt you. Hurt Chloe. When hurting you, either of you, is the last thing I've ever wanted to do.’

He pauses. Lucifer is still staring fixedly away, out over the balcony but Dan can tell he's still listening. ‘I told you I would never take advantage of this thing and I meant it. I just- I screwed up, man.’ He laughs hoarsely. ‘I just keep screwing up. But I need you to know that I was serious. I'm going to - _we're_ going to find a way through this, okay?’ He looks at Lucifer intently and waves a hand to encompass the three of them. ‘We're not going to let this win. Let _God_ win.’

Dan stops, lets the words sink in for both Lucifer and, in a way, for Dan himself. He hadn’t really thought it out before, thought beyond the desperate desire just to _fix_ things, but now he’s said it, he doesn’t think he’s ever meant anything more in his life.

Even the bit about fighting God. Yeah, Dan’s not going to think about that right now.  

He swallows then asks, as gently as he can, ‘Do you believe me?’

And Lucifer looks back at him, face almost painfully open, raw and says, _‘I don’t know.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For 'reference', here is Lucifer's plush [mini-me](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51xHYrOV7FL._SX355_.jpg). :P
> 
> Wrote this before episode 3 screened and was so amused and delighted to see a certain toy in the episode! Perfect. :D


	11. The Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dan is an optimist, Lucifer hatches a plan and Chloe is (once again) the smartest person in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is probably the grimmest chapter for some time (due for some happier bits soon!) So hold onto to your angst hats and trust that there is a happy ending (eventually). :P
> 
> Warnings for: angst, canon-level violence, brooding Lucifer (which deserves its own warning, frankly) and some sexual content (consensual but not exactly happy). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

They had talked for hours. Well, reflects Lucifer bitterly, Dan and the Detective had talked and he had sat and listened like a good little boy. 

They had both been so disgustingly _earnest_ , as though kind words and reported good intentions would matter in the slightest, would alter the immutable fact that Lucifer is now bound for all of eternity to the will of a idiotic douche of a corrupt policeman and dishonest husband.

Lucifer feels a twinge of _something_ that feels oddly like guilt at the uncharitable thought and snarls, slamming one of his few unsmashed glasses down hard on the uneven surface of his piano. Probably the bloody bond reminding him - as though reminders were even necessary - that his Master’s will and righteousness are absolute as is his authority over Lucifer's mind, body and soul.

Lucifer scrapes his hands down his face viciously. What a bloody mess.

And the worst of it - the absolute worst - is how _afraid_ he is all the time, how on edge and heartsick he feels in his gut.

It feels like that dreadful day countless aeons ago when Michael, that bastard, had hounded him to the very fringes of the Silver City and done battle with him until Lucifer had no longer had the strength to fly or even stand.

It feels like that one long, aching moment when Michael had stood over him, face cold and as distant as marble, flaming sword aloft. That awful, hideous sensation of being at his utter mercy _knowing_ in his heart that he was just waiting for the moment to lash out and destroy him. Those terrible beats of time before Michael had leant down and plunged his blade into Lucifer’s gut and cast him down into the abyss forever.

And Lucifer remembers Michael before-

before.

He remembers his kindness, his love, so like Father's the mere memory of it burns. His wisdom and seemingly infinite mercy - to every single person, angel and human alike. Apart from Lucifer.

In Lucifer’s long and bitter experience he knows that people, no matter how kind, how loving and well-meaning they may seem are all just traps waiting to be sprung, waiting for the trigger to set them off.

He can't believe he ever forgot, was ever stupid enough to let them get close, to set him up for a Fall all over again. He really is a fool.

It's just a matter of time. Detective Douche - will prove himself to be every inch the disappointment, the bastard, as every brutal brother, mother and _Master_ Lucifer has ever known.

Lucifer just needs to find his trigger.

-

Dan thinks it had gone rather well.

They had all sat down, nice and civilised, on Lucifer’s thankfully undestroyed loveseat and talked. Chloe and Dan had spoken with Lucifer for what felt like hours, reassuring him and reminding him of how just because of this _spell_ nothing had to change. 

They still cared about him, he was still their friend and Chloe’s partner. No-one thought any less of him - on the contrary, Chloe had said, eyes bright, leaning forward on the couch and gently placing her palm on his own hesitant hand, that he had done this for her, had put himself through this _hell_ to save her life? She had no words but also, if he ever did it again she would kill him.

Dan thought he'd actually glimpsed a hint of a smile on Lucifer’s pinched mouth at that.

Dan had even managed to avoid giving any accidental orders or screwing up, something he is rather proud of.

By the time Chloe and Dan had left Lux it had been late and the club was pulsing with activity, with music and sex.

Dan drives Chloe back to the precinct to pick up her car, feeling rather relieved and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to normal now. Well, normal for them anyway.

Chloe however, beside him in the passenger seat, is quiet, mind turning. He knows that look. 

Dan casts her a wary look. ‘What?’

She sighs and bites at her lip. ‘Don’t you think that was a bit too easy?’

‘Easy?’ Dan scoffs, glancing back at the road. ‘Did you even just sit through the same conversation I did?’

Chloe glances at him with a look of exasperation. ‘Yes, I did actually Dan. You don't think it was a little weird that Lucifer said maybe four words the whole time?’

Dan shifts in the driver's seat, hands clenching nervously around the steering wheel. ‘Yeah, okay, maybe he was a little quiet. For him. But who wouldn't be?’ he says quickly. ‘I mean the guy looks exhausted. Probably hasn't slept for days. ...if he even needs sleep,’ he adds uncertainly.

Chloe looks unconvinced. ‘I'm worried about him, Dan. I'm worried about this- this bond. You know Lucifer, he’s-’ she pauses. ‘For a someone as strong as him and with his,’ she snorts softly, ‘own special brand of humour, he doesn't cope well when he's upset. You saw what he was like after what happened with his brother,’ she comments with a worried frown, hand tapping absently at the car door.

Dan shrugs, uneasy but unwilling to think on it. ‘Look, Chlo, I'm sure he's just adjusting. He’ll be fine, you'll see,’ he says bracingly. ‘He's the Devil. He'll cope,’ he says with more surety than he feels.

Chloe sighs and stares out of the window at the wet streets flying by. ‘I hope you're right, Dan.’

-

Dan isn't right.

He concedes this possibility around the time Lucifer punches Officer Dutton in the face in the middle of the Paddock Bar at 7 PM on Wednesday.

Lucifer had been a _nightmare_ since their little chat at Lux on Monday evening. Turning up to crime scenes late and behaving cavalierly, darting off on his own on cases and nearly bloody getting himself killed, breaking rules left, right and centre, picking locks, threatening suspects with acts of violence and now swinging wildly for an off-duty cop in a bar literally _packed_ _with cops_ , punching him hard enough to knock him flat on the bar. And all because Dutton had made an off-colour remark about Chloe’s “assets”.

As Dan watches, shocked, Lucifer advances towards the bar, clearly intending to finish what he'd started. Dan snaps out of his trance before he can make it that far, and grabs Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer freezes under his grip. Dan can feel him almost shaking under his fingers, as though itching to be let off the leash. At that thought Dan abruptly lets go, sickened.

Lucifer spins around and gives him a laconic grin before slowly, deliberately, turning around and lunging at the dumbfounded form of Dutton. Without thinking Dan yelps, ‘ _stop!’_

And Lucifer just _stops_ in place, still, barely even breathing. Dan feels something wrench inside him and quickly steps up beside, gently taking his elbow. Lucifer just lets him, unresisting. Not even looking at him. Dan hesitates, unsure what to do.

Before he can make a decision one is made for him. Detective McPherson - Dutton’s cousin, oh joy - comes up to them, a scowl on his grisly features 

He gets in Lucifer’s face. ‘Hey, the hell you think you're doing, buddy?’

Lucifer glowers back furiously and Dan quickly cuts in before he manages to escalate things further.

‘It's fine. He's sorry, aren’t you?’ He grips Lucifer’s elbow slightly tighter pointedly.

Lucifer’s jaw clenches but he lowers his chin and snaps out shortly, ‘yes.’ He pauses. ‘I'm sorry.’ He adds roughly.

McPherson doesn't look mollified. ‘You're Decker’s guy, aren't you?’ He shakes his head and turns to Dan, effectively dismissing Lucifer from his notice. ‘You need to tell that wife of yours to get her partner under control.’ He glowers at them. ‘Before someone gets hurt.’ He adds, menacingly.

Dan glares back. ‘She's not my wife and no, I actually don't. Your _cousin_ started it by being a freaking dic-’ Dan controls himself with difficulty, ‘- _disrespectful_ about a fellow cop. Maybe you should tell him to talk about women properly.’ Before McPherson can retort Dan steps back, pulling the still tense Lucifer with him. ‘We're done here.’

By the time they're on the street outside the Paddock, Dan notices Lucifer is being uncharacteristically silent. He releases his arm and turns to face him, frowning. ‘What the hell was that about, man?’

Lucifer glowers at him. ‘He insulted the Detective,’ he says shortly. ‘So I punished him.’

Dan stares at him, hands on his hips and almost prancing in place with agitation. ‘You _can’t_ punch people like that, Lucifer. Especially not cops, especially not cops _in a cop bar_. You could get in serious trouble. You could get suspended. Is that what you want? To get in trouble?’

It's a rhetorical question but Lucifer’s face turns open and raw as though Dan just slashed at it with a knife. _‘Yes.’_

What? Dan stares at him confused before finally, _finally_ taking in the man's body language - tense, shoulders half up to his ears, his face, simultaneously closed off but also shockingly desperate, vulnerable - and suddenly rewinds through the last half an hour. _Shit._

‘Lucifer-’ he starts but doesn’t know what to say. Lucifer tears his gaze away, scowling furiously at a nearby lamppost.

Dan hesitates, fumbling for something, anything to snap the tension between them when his phone rings. He jerks in place, hand twitching towards his pocket. ‘I have to get- sorry, do you mind if I get this?’ He asks automatically and tries to disregard the look of disdain that flashes across Lucifer’s face. ‘Hang on, I'll just- Hello, it's Espinoza. Oh, Sergeant Matthews-’

He turns away as he takes the call. One of the pieces of evidence from his last case has been misfiled and he needs to go back to the precinct to sort it out (read: yell at a uni until it's fixed). He hangs up and reluctantly turns to face Lucifer who is watching him, expression unreadable.

Dan swallows uncomfortably. ‘Hey, I need to head back to base to sort something out.’ He hesitates. The idea of bringing Lucifer anywhere near other cops seems like a bad plan right now. ‘Look, we'll talk about this later. Why don't you head off and I'll catch you up?’

He feels a bit like he's copping out, but Lucifer just nods and with a blank ‘of course’ strides off and disappears into the crowd, leaving Dan standing alone in front of the bar clutching his phone.

-

The evidence, a good kilo and a half of first grade cocaine is for some reason labelled and filed under ‘firearms’ and takes Dan a good two hours and seven distinct forms to sort out. Jesus, he hopes Vice doesn't hear about this - they've been on his ass ever since that case where an entire brick of cocaine had gone missing.

By the time he's ready to leave the station he's exhausted and wants nothing more than a drink and eight hours of blissful repose. He's just contemplating whether Lucifer would really mind if Dan puts off their ‘talk’ till tomorrow during office hours when his phone buzzes. 

He groans and checks the call ID. It's Chloe. ‘Hey Chlo,’ he says tiredly. ‘What's up?’ 

Chloe sounds worried and angry - his least favourite combination. ‘It's Lucifer.’

Of course it is. Dan sighs. ‘What's he done now, punched another cop?' 

Chloe sounds surprised over the tinny reverberation of the phone. ‘No. Wait. He punched a cop? Why? 

Dan winces. ‘Doesn't matter,’ he says hastily. ‘The guy deserved it.’ He frowns. ‘What did you hear then?’

There’s a pause. ‘He broke up with me.’ Chloe admits.

Dan starts, but Chloe presses on sounding upset and irritated, the burble of Trixie giggling at _Star Wars_ in the background. ‘I mean not that we were even really properly together but we-’

She clears his throat. ‘Something’s wrong. He's been really off the rails ever since we talked. I think we should go and see him.’

Dan hesitates. ‘He just, um, called you now?’

Chloe snorts, dry as dust. ‘Texted.’

Ouch. Dan presses his fist against his temples. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘It's probably my fault.’ At Chloe’s long and eloquent silence Dan stumbles on. ‘I- when he punched that guy earlier I said some stuff. I think I screwed up again. He looked pretty upset. It's this damn,’ he grimaces into the phone and drops his voice, ‘bond.’

He sighs. ‘I'll go talk to him. I'm sure this'll just blow over once we sort it out and we'll go back to normal.’ He thinks despairingly that he sounds less and less convinced every time he says it.

After a moment Chloe sighs. ‘I hope so. Just tell him from me that I'm not mad. He's not answering my calls. 

Dan grins shakily. ‘You're not mad?’

Chloe laughs shortly. ‘Of course I'm mad. But he doesn't need to know that now. Especially if this is all just coming from him having trouble coping.’ Her voice softens. ‘Go talk to him. Hopefully like you say it'll all be okay in the morning.’

Dan thinks she doesn't sound convinced either. 

-

Lux is vibrant at this time at night, Dan dodges through the throng of gyrating bodies towards the stairs with difficulty. He can't see Lucifer so he suspects the man is probably hiding in his penthouse again.

As he rides up in the elevator, Dan tries to rehearse what he's going to say, his plan of attack. He's just decided that he's going to be calm and measured, will neatly and coherently set out his reasoning for Lucifer to stop worrying about the bond when it should have no bearing on their lives, on reiterating his assurances that he would naturally never take advantage of their situation - since Lucifer apparently needs to hear it - when the doors open.

Dan steps cautiously into Lucifer’s home. The place still looks like it's been hit by a hurricane but something is different too.

There’s music on, a low, heady thrum of bass that reverberates around Dan’s body, curls up his legs and hums through his bones, an echo of the club downstairs.

It's also mostly dark, just a few spots of yellow light faintly illuminating the corners, throwing everything into a state of half-shade.

And in one of the corners, in the alcove to the side of the entrance to Lucifer’s bedroom he can hear murmuring, see a writhing shape undulating in the dark.

He starts as he recognises Lucifer, held in the grip of a larger man, pressed up against the pale stone wall. At first Dan thinks they're fighting and his heart thuds, hand groping for the weapon he isn't carrying but then Lucifer moans low and deep, arching his head back so it hits the stone behind him with a thud.

The other man, broad and tall and bald is pressed up tight against him fully clothed in leather and black cotton. On his neck is a tattoo of an eagle and he's holding Lucifer’s bare wrists in his large tanned hands, pinning them hard against the wall on either side of Lucifer’s boxer-clad hips. His mouth is buried in Lucifer’s neck, just above the collar - Dan’s collar - and Lucifer moans again, bare chest arching up against the other man.

But Dan dimly registers his face - his face doesn't look like it's contorted with pleasure but with _pain_. Eyes tightly scrunched up as though in agony, wrists jerking slightly against the fierce hold on them as though trying weakly to throw the guy off.  

Dan speaks without even being aware of it. _‘No.’_

Lucifer freezes in the hold of the other man, who after a second frowns and turns slightly to look at Dan. ‘Sorry?’

Dan glares furiously and strides forward, hands clenched at his sides. ‘You better be. What the hell are you doing with him?’

The guy looks bemused but does back off a bit, letting go of Lucifer and putting some distance between them. ‘Well, I thought I was going to have a fun time but I guess not.’ He squints at Dan before turning and looking at Lucifer, expression slightly puzzled.

He looks from Lucifer standing, looking closed off in place against the wall to Dan who's glowering at him furiously at him before raising his hands. ‘I get it, fine.’ He frowns at Lucifer, his eyes flicking just for a second to his collar. ‘Not cool, man. You should have just said you had a boyfriend- and a dom at that.’ He shakes his head and grabs his jacket. ‘See you around.’ He leaves before Dan can get so much as a word in edgewise.

There’s a beat of silence where Dan stands frozen, confused as to what he just witnessed while Lucifer stays, pressed up against the wall and staring at the floor. He's still mostly naked and Dan clears his throat awkwardly.

Lucifer looks up with a slight, helpless start. His face is blank, and his eyes are unreadable in the dark of the room but his body is mostly bare to Dan’s gaze and Dan can see the lines of tension in his shoulders and legs, muscles clenched as if preparing for either fight or flight.

Finally at Dan's silence Lucifer snaps out. ‘Well?’

Dan frowns, completely baffled. ‘Well, what?’

Lucifer scoffs and looks back at him. He looks utterly furious. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense. Get on with it already,’ he snaps, his black eyes flashing, a hint of red starting to show in the centre. He snarls. _‘Please,’_ he adds, almost as though it's being torn from him. 

Dan shifts on his feet, moving back towards the remains of the piano. ‘Please what? Lucifer, what do you want?’

Lucifer tosses his dark head and laughs, sounding half deranged. ‘Wow. You do impress me, _Dan_. Are you really going to make me ask for it? Make me _beg_?’

He shakes his head slightly as though bitterly amused but his eyes look overly bright and betrayed.

Dan throws his hand up in the air worried and frustrated beyond belief. ‘Beg for what, Lucifer _I don't understand what you want.’_

Lucifer stares at him, expression furious and disbelieving. ‘Punishment,’ he snarls, eyes finally fully crimson.

Dan stares at him. ‘For what?’

Lucifer snorts, face tightly controlled, eyes fading back to pitch black. ‘Really, we're playing this game then, are we? Fine, it wouldn't be my first time, not by a long shot.’ He folds his arms across his bare chest and smiles sarcastically. ‘Shall I list my sins?’

Apparently taking Dan’s baffled silence as assent, he continues. ‘Well, let's see. There’s my conduct at your workplace, my obvious flaunting of the rules you and Detective Decker hold so dear, my willful disobedience of your lovely ex-wife’s instructions, my assault of your fellow officer in your presence when I knew you'd disapprove,’ he pauses, voice almost hoarse. ‘And then - most grievously - as you saw, my wanton,’ he swallows, ‘defilement of your _property_.’ He stops, as though out of breath, but his eyes glitter wild and defiant at Dan.

‘So the only question is how you intend to seek your just retribution, _sir_.’ His hands are clenched tightly at his sides and he looks at Dan as if he truly, thoroughly despises him.

Dan stares at him feeling almost winded, heart twisting viciously in his chest. ‘I- you can't be serious.’

But Lucifer just shakes his head, mouth tight and white-lipped, face deathly white.

Dan chokes out, ‘I'm not going to punish you. I am never going to punish you. You don't even _deserve_ it!’

For some reason instead of, Dan doesn't know, seeming happy or relieved Lucifer just looks _crushed_ , like Dan just struck him.

With a snarl he darts towards Dan, stopping just short of grabbing him. ‘Why not?’

Dan very nearly steps back. ‘Because nothing you've done warrants me or anyone else hurting you, Lucifer, come on!’

Lucifer stares down at him, eyes searching Dan's and for a brief moment Dan thinks he's gotten through to him, but then with a growl and hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders, Lucifer slams his head down and _kisses_ Dan.


	12. Deep and Meaningful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Why did you believe you should be punished?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hurt/comfort, it is strong in this one. This is probably the worst of the gloom for a good long while. The next few chapter are quite something. :D 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It isn't a nice kiss.

It's like being kissed by a furnace, hot and scalding against Dan's mouth, burning him. It's furious and hurt and _frightened_ and Dan is frozen in place, shocked into inaction. As he stands there he abruptly feels hands at his hips, at his belt buckle, undoing his trousers and slipping inside, fast and frantic and he rears back, horrified. ‘ _Stop!_ ’

And Lucifer just stops, head bent as though chasing Dan's mouth, one long hand still inside Dan's pants.

For a moment he stays exactly in place before he yanks himself backwards and, before Dan can so much as take a breath, Lucifer collapses down to his knees, to his haunches, head bowed low almost touching the floor.

And Dan stands there breathless, belt still unbuckled, half-hard in his boxers.

‘I- what. Lucifer, what the _hell_?’

If anything Lucifer’s spine bends further, hunching closer down to the floor. He doesn't look up, doesn't say anything and looking at him, looking at his dark head, his collar glinting at the back of his neck, his hands pressed flat against the tile hard enough to blanch the skin. Dan feels sick.

What the hell just happened?

He hastily does up his belt and backs away. He wants nothing more in this moment to flee the room, the building, to drive back to his house and get roaring drunk and forget he ever even met the Devil, but Lucifer-

Lucifer is shaking on the floor - tremors running up and down his spine, spasming his naked back that Dan wouldn't even have noticed if he hadn't been staring at him - and Dan needs to _help him_.

He just wishes he knew how, knew the first thing about anything that had happened since last Thursday.

He clears his throat, desperately wanting a drink.

He crouches down, trying to get to Lucifer’s level. ‘Lucifer,’ he says as gently as he's able. It comes out strangled. ‘Lucifer, would you please stand up?’

Lucifer head bobs briefly and slowly, in stages, he unwinds himself and rises to his feet.

He looks pale and wretched and for a second Dan wants to hug him like he might hug Chloe or Trixie when they're frightened, but doesn’t think close proximity is a good idea for them right now.

‘Okay,’ he says quietly, ‘Thank you. How about,’ he clears his throat. ‘How ‘bout we sit down over here, buddy?’

He tentatively leads Lucifer to the loveseat and quickly turns off the music and hunts around for some clothes. He finds Lucifer’s black silk robe pooled on the floor next to his bed and fetches it, gently handing to Lucifer who thankfully takes the hint and slides it on, belting it tightly about his waist.

Dan sits across from him on the seat and surveys him. Lucifer's eyes are fixed downwards and he is completely, eerily silent. Dan feels like he's about to talk to a traumatised victim of a crime at work and, thinking back to Lucifer’s red form, burnt and scarred, it occurs to him that perhaps that is not inaccurate.

He tries to relax, to open up his body language and takes a breath. ‘Lucifer,’ he says quietly. ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions. You can answer or not answer as you wish, okay?’

At Lucifer’s nod, Dan continues. ‘Okay. Thank you.’ He takes a breath and dives in. ‘Why did you believe you should be punished?’

As Lucifer opens his mouth, Dan quickly interjects. ‘I mean I heard you say what you thought you'd done wrong. You don't need to list them again. What I mean is why did you think I would punish you?’

For a moment Dan thinks he isn't going to answer but then Lucifer speaks, tone neutral. ‘Because you're my Master.’

Dan feels his heart thud. ‘Right,’ he says evenly, trying not to betray his unease. ‘Because of the bond.’

Lucifer nods at the table. ‘Yes.’

Dan swallows. ‘Right,’ he repeats. He hesitates. ‘And you feel you deserve to be punished.’

Lucifer nods and for the first time his gaze lifts to meet Dan’s. He looks pale but resolute. ‘Yes.’

Dan licks his lips as Lucifer watches him dispassionately. ‘And if I- if I don't punish you what happens? Does the bond hurt you instead?’

Lucifer is silent for a moment. ‘No.’ He says quietly. ‘Not unless you wish it,’ he adds.

Dan works his jaw. ‘I don’t,’ he says a little too sharply, provoking a slight flinch. He fights the urge to punch himself in the face. ‘You said - earlier - you said you wanted punishment. What did you mean? Why would you _want_ me to punish you?’

Lucifer regards his hands, picking at a fingernail. Dan resists telling him to stop, the way he'd normally tell off Trixie. ‘Because I deserve it.’ He says eventually.

Dan frowns, worried. He wants to immediately tell Lucifer that he _doesn't_ deserve it, but he's beginning to suspect that wouldn't do much good. ‘Why do you deserve it?’

Lucifer looks at him sharply as though believing Dan to be mocking him. He glances away. ‘It's a long list.’

Dan rubs his mouth thoughtfully and hesitates before taking the plunge. ‘Is because of Hell? Or Uriel?’

Lucifer looks at him, mouth a thin line, hands clasped tightly. ‘In part.’

It's like drawing blood from a stone. Dan sighs. ‘So the reason you've been acting out lately is just to try and be punished?’

He catches Lucifer hesitate and against his will his voice sharpens slightly. ‘What?’

Lucifer looks down, jaw clenched. ‘I wanted to push you.’ He looks like he regrets it the moment it's out of his mouth.

Dan frowns uncomprehendingly. ‘Push me? Into what?’

Lucifer looks away from him, out towards the balcony as though contemplating jumping off. ‘Confirming my fears.’

His voice is low, almost too low to make out and Dan ducks his head slightly, watching Lucifer from underneath a furrowed brow. He uneasily crosses his legs. ‘What are you afraid of?’ He keeps his voice equally quiet, hoping for and simultaneously fearing the answer.

After a long moment Lucifer finally turns back to look at him. He tucks his arms across his chest over his loose robe as though for protection or warmth. ‘You.’

There is a breathless, wounded pause where they look at each other - Lucifer tense and Dan feeling numb - before he glances away and amends in a mutter, ‘I don’t know. At the moment I just feel- afraid. Of everything. You. The Detective.’ He laughs shortly. ‘This bloody bond.’ He sighs, looking exhausted.

‘I feel like an idiot,’ he says tiredly, bitterly into Dan’s silence. ‘I knew it was too good to last. Chloe knowing who I was, what I was and accepting me. You becoming my friend, doing the same. I knew it wouldn't end well and yet I still fell for it. I still just walked merrily into His trap and look what happened.’ He buries his head in his hand, roughly pulling at his short hair.

‘Chloe nearly died. And now I'm exactly back where I started. Chained to the will of someone who doesn't give two figs about me and has the power to do anything they please to me if I so much as step out of line.’

At Dan’s start, Lucifer looks up. He catches the expression on Dan’s face and misinterprets. ‘Oh, that wasn't a criticism. It's fine. We've only been friends for what two months? I know you never wanted or needed this. I'm just an inconvenience to you.’

He hesitates and licks his lips. ‘I'd understand if you ordered me out of your life. Out of Chloe’s life, I would- and that's your prerogative, of course. You can do as you like now. I've… quit the field.’ He looks away briefly, voice hoarse. ‘But I- entreat you, have mercy. I know I should leave but I- this is my home. The only one I've ever really had. I don't want to go. Please don't make me.’

He looks sickened and freaking broken and Dan can't take any more. ‘I won't.’ His words come out a lot rougher than he intended but the look of sheer relief that flashes across Lucifer’s face kills him. There is so much wrong with this whole damn situation Dan doesn’t even know where to begin fixing it. He takes a deep breath and _tries_.

‘Okay,’ Dan says. ‘I think I should have right of reply to that so please hear me out.’ He ignores Lucifer’s baffled squint. ‘Firstly, I don't need or want you to ‘quit the field’ with Chloe, alright? I know you love her and I'm pretty sure she likes you too. If you guys want to be together that's entirely up to the two of you.’ At Lucifer’s disbelieving look, Dan looks away. ‘Yeah, I love her and I probably always will but we're divorced, Lucifer. Because I screwed up. And I've accepted that. I'm not going to- to order you away just because I still care for her. I'm not a caveman.’

Lucifer eyes him. ‘I doubt it's that simple, Daniel. I'm bound to you - as a slave. I'm hardly in a position to pursue anyone, let alone the Detective.’ He looks away, agitatedly drumming long fingers on his thinly clad thighs.

Dan swallows uneasily. ‘Why? Chloe won't care, man, you must know that.’

Lucifer sighs and shift back in his seat, crossing his long legs. ‘No, Chloe may not care about the spell,’ he says quietly. ‘But the spell will definitely care about Chloe.’

Dan thinks back to the expression on Lucifer’s face when was with that man, the agony he'd seen, thinks of Lucifer’s voice saying ‘your property’ and shudders. ‘Oh God,’ he says numbly. ‘Are you saying the bond won't let you have sex with anyone?’ He frowns, ‘But you kissed me.’

Lucifer gives him a very dry, unimpressed look and Dan winces. ‘Oh right. Sorry. That was because I'm-’ He hesitates. ‘What, nobody else, though? Ever?’

Lucifer is regarding his hands carefully. Dan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Wait,’ he blurts, ‘can I give you permission? Would that work?’ He grimaces, it sounds awful.

Lucifer however seems to consider. ‘Probably,’ he says at last. ‘Or perhaps an order would be better.’ He snorts. ‘We may need to test it.’

Dan can’t think of anything he'd rather do less but nods tightly. He sighs and decides to address his other points instead of dwelling on their dark and creepy sexual future.

‘Lucifer, we're friends. Period. I give a fig about you. I'd even give two figs if I had the slightest clue what a fig even is.’ He pauses and is rewarded by the faintest glimmer of a smile. He turns serious, allowing his voice to gentle. ‘I don’t care if we've been friends for one month, two months or ten years. I like you. You're not an inconvenience or a burden. I'm glad I have you in my life and I want you to be happy. The only thing I can't stand is this bond, because it's _hurting you_. But,’ he says sharply at Lucifer opening his mouth, ‘that is not your fault.’

He leans forward and stares intently at Lucifer who had been looking away. ‘I want you to listen to me very carefully. None of this is your fault. It doesn't matter who or what you were born as or- or _made into_ , Lucifer, you are a living person and deserve to have a life and that life includes friends.’

He sits back and swallows. ‘Chloe’s curse is not on you. It's on your Dad and you went above and beyond to save her. You're not an idiot. Nobody would _expect_ someone to do something that, well, _evil_.’

Lucifer snorts bitterly. ‘I could have. I _should_ have, Daniel. This is exactly the sort of thing he'd do. The sort of choice he'd want to push me into. I thought,’ he laughs with a sharp edge, ‘that he'd been _merciful_ allowing me to save Chloe, when all he was doing was playing another of his bloody long games.’

Dan frowns. ‘Fine, but could you predict that was going to happen? You're only human, Lucifer.’

A moment later he realises what he just said and to whom and coughs, flustered. He is surprised and pleased to catch sight of Lucifer’s eyes briefly lighting up in amusement at his expense.

‘You know what I mean.’ Dan gives him a smile before sobering. ‘And finally,’ he hesitates. ‘Thank you for telling me you're afraid. I want to tell you you have nothing to be afraid of, but that isn't true. Chloe said you have a lot to be afraid of and she's probably right.’

‘Chloe?’ says Lucifer with a surprised frown.

Dan snorts. ‘Yes, we talk about you.’ He catches Lucifer’s offended expression and scoffs. ‘Oh, come on, man, like you and Chloe don't talk about me.’

Lucifer looks at him sharply, shoulders tense. ‘Which is fine. Carry on.’ Dan hastily adds.

He sighs, feeling useless and a complete dick. ‘Look, I can't promise I won't ever hurt you,’ he hesitates. ‘That I won't screw up and accidentally order you around - because let's face it, look at my track record - but I can promise I'm going to try.’

He leans forward across the seat, bridging the gap between them and hesitantly takes Lucifer’s hand.

‘Lucifer, I give you my word and my word is my bond.’ He tries a grin and is terribly, wonderfully relieved when he gets a slow, incredibly tiny hint of a grin in return.

‘I know you probably don't believe me completely - or trust me - and that's,’ he swallows, ‘That’s okay, but I'm going to do my best everyday to prove that you can.’

He stays there for a moment holding Lucifer’s warm hand while his words (hopefully) sink in before he gently releases him. ‘So, what's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?’

Lucifer snorts at him. ‘Well,’ he says dryly, ‘I did just offer you sex.’

Dan chokes on thin air. ‘I thought you said that if I even thought about sex you'd kill me or castrate me?’

Lucifer shrugs and leans back, spreading his arms across either side of the seat. ‘I didn't say anything about me thinking about sex. Besides,’ he says with a grin that's surprisingly normal for him. ‘I had a quick feel earlier and I've decided I quite like your balls where they are.’

He claps Dan's back as Dan chokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by the amazing accrues, who is having an awful week and can do with all the love in the world right now. <3


	13. Pulling Pigtails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo we're back. We've had to change some stuff with how our writing schedules go due to HUGE LIFE CHANGES but hopefully we'll get back onto a schedule of two a week from now on.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience.
> 
> ~ accrues

In the days that follow Dan feels there is a fragile sense of peace as things slowly return to normal. 

Well, the new normal. 

Things after that are better between the three of them. Lucifer is still often tense and jumpy around Dan but he gradually seems willing to actually spend time with him again, even tagging along with him on some cases like he used to. 

He smiles more freely and bounces around after Chloe as is his wont - she seems to have gotten over the whole dumped-by-text thing, by the way she’s amiably letting him pull her off on random goose chases. Sometimes Dan can almost forget the damned bond even happened.

Lucifer, on the other hand, apparently _can’t_ forget the damned bond ever happened. 

Dan’s following up a lead at a nightclub down-town, working one of Detective Alder’s cases. Lucifer, who had been volunteered by Chloe to offer his expert opinion on nightclub matters, is currently flirting with an attractive coffee-skinned bartender named Adam, perched up on the bar and kicking his heels against it absently.

‘Lucifer,’ Dan finally complains, when one kick too many makes his head pound unhappily in response. Lucifer’s head snaps immediately around. His eyes are strangely round, and he hops off the bar as if it’s burning him. 

Dan rubs at his aching head. ‘Got anything?’

‘ _Adam_ ,’ Lucifer purrs, casting an appreciative look back to where the bartender is now wiping at something and - oh, glancing up through his thick lashes seductively, ‘didn’t see _anything_. Apparently, he had his hands… busy.’

He smirks and Dan rolls his eyes. ‘Great,’ Dan grumbles. ‘So we’ve got nothing from this scene.’

‘Well,’ Lucifer grins at him. ‘I have his number, so not all was wasted.’

‘Would you quit screwing around,’ Dan snaps. He hates being the odd-jobs boy for the senior detectives; he’d paid his dues and more, before he’d been promoted alongside Chloe.

‘I’m not screwing around,’ Lucifer nudges him with one arm. ‘But I could start if that’s what you wanted. Maybe I could get some… intel.’ He eyes Adam appreciatively.

Dan sighs. ‘Maybe don’t have sex with our witness,’ he says, longsuffering. No wonder Chloe is always complaining.

‘But I just told you, _detective_ , he’s not a witness.’ He turns to look at Dan, who’s flicking his notepad shut and clicking his pen closed. ‘Oh,’ he says, and walks away.

Dan frowns, staring after Lucifer’s back as he goes off to - what, presumably annoy one of the unis. ‘Oh?’ He shakes his head. Whatever, they have work to do.

-

Back at the precinct, Dan begins filling out the necessary paperwork, while Lucifer offers helpful commentary like, ‘are you completely sure you have a grasp of the english language, Daniel, that apostrophe is superfluous to requirements’ and ‘he was _not_ Indian, he was _Pakistani_ ’ and even a dry ‘oh no sir, don’t _leave_ me,’ when Dan had announced he was going to the bathroom.

He returns, to find that Lucifer has… disappeared.

Only to reappear an hour later with two delicious looking cappuccinos and a bag of pastries.

‘For you, Master Dan,’ Lucifer says with a bright grin, passing one of the paper cups over to Dan’s waiting hand. Dan watches as a passing uni pauses a beat, then keeps walking.

Dan takes a sip of the coffee, meaning to grumble at Lucifer for whatever the ‘master Dan’ crap was, but he groans in pleasure instead, closing his eyes. It’s perfect. It even has the right amount of sugar in it, despite Lucifer’s loudly expounded beliefs that coffee has its own natural sugars and doesn’t need any extra.

‘Oh god,’ he moans happily, pulling the cup away from his mouth. Lucifer is watching him archly from across the desk. ‘Uh, thank you, _Lucifer_?’ Dan amends, and Lucifer sighs, raising his own cup to his lips. 

The pastries are just as good. Dan hadn’t even realised he was craving a bearclaw until one appeared before him. Lucifer is munching on a glazed donut, occasionally sucking one of his sticky fingers into his mouth. Dan has to look away rapidly, but not fast enough, as he catches the amused glint in Lucifer’s eye.

Damn it, it’s so confusing.

Luckily, Lucifer is called out to one of Chloe’s cases, leaving Dan in the relative quiet of a bustling police precinct. He doesn’t miss Lucifer’s annoying narration at all.

-

Lucifer hasn’t felt so free since before this whole thing started. The bond is still there of course, but its weight is somewhat… lessened since his conversation with Daniel in the penthouse at Lux.

Assisting on cases, with Chloe or Dan, he feels a lot more like his old self, helping serve out justice to those that need punishing. 

When the bond does itch at him, he scratches back.

The following week after Lucifer meets ‘Adam’ - and stores his contact information in his phone under ‘forbidden fruit’ - Lucifer finds himself left with Dan again, after Chloe states that in no way shape or form will she be responsible for taking him to a women’s day spa on a case.

Daniel, Lucifer reflects, has far too many toys on his desk. And not the interesting kind either.

He flicks at the policeman wobble-head, and watches as it nods inanely back at him. The similarities between the figure and its owner are uncanny.

‘What are you doing, Lucifer?’ Dan sighs, placing a hand out to stop the spring loaded motion.

‘Don’t do that,’ Lucifer chides, ‘you’re crushing his free will.’

Dan rolls his eyes and pushes at Lucifer, sitting as he is in Dan’s desk chair.

‘Look Dan, he even has your jaw- oof,’ Lucifer goes gently unresisting as Dan nudges him out of the chair. ‘Well you could have just _ordered_ ,’ Lucifer needles, hiding a smile as he dusts invisible specks from the knee of his trousers. ‘Or maybe you wanted me on my knees.’ He leans in, leering, only to be smacked lightly in the face with a file as Dan offers it up for perusal.

Lucifer grumbles, but takes the file.

‘Got a suspect coming in. Your uh,’ Dan pauses, ‘‘interrogation expertise’ might be helpful.’

‘I very much doubt you want me to torture the poor lad,’ Lucifer comments mildly, perching on Dan’s desk and flicking through the file on Jake Hayfeld.

‘Not much to look at, is he,’ Lucifer critiques. ‘I’d give it a go though,’ he says absently.

‘ _Not_ what I meant by interrogation,’ Dan groans, and Lucifer smirks over at him.

‘Well, if you insist,’ he pouts, and keeps reading.

Dan goes back to tapping at his computer keyboard, and Lucifer watches over the file.

‘Sir,’ Lucifer attempts. Dan _flinches_ , and looks up. Lucifer flicks his eyes back to the file.

‘What?’

Lucifer feigns confusion and slowly drags his gaze away to look at Dan. ‘Hmm?’

‘I coulda sworn you-’ Dan frowns. ‘Never mind.’

Lucifer lets out a faux longsufferingly sigh at Daniel’s apparent wasting of his time, and goes back to reading.

He’s read the file through three times by the time he tries again. ‘M’lord?’

Dan starts again, and Lucifer lays down the file. ‘Are you quite okay, Dan?’

Dan is staring at him with suspicion in his eyes. ‘What did you just call me?’

Lucifer frowns at him. ‘Are you sure you’re not hearing things? You know hearing difficulties are relatively common in people of your…’ he drags his gaze up and down what he can see of Dan’s body ‘...age.’

‘‘My age’? I’m barely even 40- you’re like, a billion years old,’ Dan hisses, looking covertly around him as he says it.

Lucifer sniffs. ‘Well now you’re just being rude,’ he complains, ‘it’s not polite to raise a lady’s age.’

‘You’re not a lady!’ Dan snaps in response. ‘You’re not even human,’ he hisses.

‘And thank the me for that,’ Lucifer shudders. ‘Ugh, can you imagine.’

He goes back to his file.

A few minutes of Lucifer reading Jake Heyfeld’s file upside-down, to Dan’s apparent ignorance, Lucifer tries again. ‘Master?’

‘Okay, that’s it,’ Dan snaps, slamming his hand down on the table.

‘Master, is it?’ a passing cop remarks. How delightful, Lucifer had barely even noticed her presence.

‘Is that the reason for the-’ the cop gestures at her neck, and glances at Lucifer.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Lucifer says brightly, stressing the word. ‘Daniel finally found the balls to put me in my place,’ he grins at her.

‘Well, always thought it would be Decker, but kudos, Espinoza. Hope you’re having fun, Lucifer.’

She walks off. Lucifer is beaming when he turns back to a red-faced Dan. Lucifer braces for what is likely to be a heated tongue lashing, when Dan’s desk phone rings.

‘Espinoza.’ Dan eyes Lucifer, talking into the phone. ‘Okay great, be there in one minute.’

He hangs up, and Lucifer smiles at him pleasantly, as innocent as one of his heavenly brethren (which is to say, not very innocent at all).

‘Jake Heyfeld’s here. Come on. We’ll talk about whatever this was...’ he gestures around him vaguely. ‘Later.’

Ooh, Lucifer thinks. Sounds promising.

-

It’s been a week of Lucifer needling Dan _constantly_. One time, Dan had been kneeling on the floor of a murder, looking as the local ME pointed out the contusions on the victim’s throat, feeling worn and exhausted in the early morning. Lucifer had called ‘oh no Dan, no need to get on your knees for _me_ ,’ and walked into the crime scene and over to the body, immaculately groomed and looking nowhere near as ragged as Dan felt at five am. 

He’s also taken to calling Dan ‘Master Dan’ at every public opportunity, which, Dan fervently hopes, is some kind of Britishism, rather than a kink - or bond - thing, but in a department of very patriotic American cops, he doubts it’s coming across that way.

Dan can barely stop himself from blowing a gasket, only the memory of Lucifer, hunched and cowering at Dan’s feet following a command of ‘stop’, keeping his lid in place.

Honestly, he thinks uncharitably, sitting at one side of the interrogation room table and watching vaguely as Lucifer explains a technique for - wait, _slipping handcuffs_? - to their perp, no wonder God kicked him out of heaven.

‘Lucifer,’ he snaps, cutting off a description of how to make ones wrists bigger while the handcuffs are being applied. ‘Stop _giving him advice_.’

Lucifer’s jaw snaps shut. Shit. 

‘Sorry,’ Dan apologises, taking a deep breath. He wants to rescind the order but, really, that one’s probably fair enough. Instead, he reaches over to pat Lucifer awkwardly on the back, just below the collar of his suit jacket.

‘You know,’ Lucifer says casually as Dan pulls his hand back. ‘Dan here is my _master_.’

What the hell.

‘And, well, it’s complicated, you wouldn’t understand, but I’m the devil. This spell should only work on angels, but apparently I’m still enough of an angel to qualify. So, I’m bound to do his bidding.’ 

Jack Heyfeld stares back at him. Dan can’t really blame him.

Lucifer sighs exaggeratedly. ‘Such a crime, the brightest of all God’s angels bound to such a-’

‘What kind of good-cop bad-cop shit is this?’ Heyfeld cuts him off. Lucifer grins at him.

‘Well, bad-cop, slave-devil-cop, more like,’ he corrects, then leans in to whisper, ‘he’s corrupt.’

Okay Dan’s had enough.

‘Lucifer, could you give it a rest?’ Dan eyes Lucifer and chuckles weakly. ‘He’s just kidding.’

‘Oh I’m not,’ Lucifer shakes his head. ‘That would mean I’m _lying_ , Detective, and I never do. But I will be silent, if that’s what you order me to-’

‘Okay alright!’ They both snap their gazes back to the perp, sitting uncomfortably before them at the table. ‘I stole those guys’ stuff. But I never murdered them!’

Huh, Dan thinks. Well he can’t say Lucifer doesn’t get results.

Just as he’s about to call booking to let them know they’ve got one coming down, Ella pokes her head into the interrogation room, silver crucifix glinting in the light.

‘Hey Dan,’ she waves and he nods back at her. ‘Hey Luce, nice bling!’ Dan looks over at Lucifer - who scowls ever so slightly - and then glances back at Ella, slightly uncomfortable.

‘Got your test results about the thing,’ she glances at the perp still across from them at the table. ‘Feel free to, y’know, come by and check it out.’

She turns back to Lucifer and gives him a quick, entirely unsubtle thumbs up, mouthing ‘nice!’ as if Dan weren’t just sitting there watching, and pops back out the door.

Dan groans.

-

Lucifer heads off to attend to Ella, while Dan passes off their recently interrogated perp to a uniform. 

Ella, wearing a purple tee and black slacks, is bent over the lab table, studying a few ripped pieces of paper he can’t identify, but she straightens up as the door shuts behind him. ‘Hey Luce!’

She cranes her head around to look behind him. ‘No Dan? Thought you guys were a team at the moment.’

Lucifer crosses to the bench, tucking his hands in his pockets. ‘He’s busy with our little suspect.’

She strips her gloves off and takes a step back from the table, reaching for a bottle of water.

‘So you guys are like,’ she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and Lucifer sighs, ‘together now? Congrats dude.’

‘I suppose so,’ he agrees. Behind him, the door opens again. Dan.

‘I was just saying how much I love the collar,’ Ella gestures at Lucifer, who purses his lips. ‘It’s cute. Never seen something that obvious as day-wear but Lucifer _pulls it off_.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucifer purrs, turning slightly to watch Dan’s movement toward them. ‘Daniel made it for me with his bare hands. Well, with his mind really, I suppose.’

Ella’s nodding, turning away to tap at a computer, bottle of water set aside. ‘It’s super cute.’

Dan glares at Lucifer, as if he’s done something wrong. Lucifer just shrugs. 

‘What did you find, Ella?’ Dan asks, walking over to the computer she’s attending to.

Lucifer sighs, and flicks at one of the pieces of paper on the table. Police work can be so dull.

He pulls out his cellphone, and starts tapping away at one of the more amusing games, one where birds are flung through the air aided by a slingshot for some bizarre reason, and sent to kill pigs. He’s quite good at it.

‘So I guess that explains the ‘Master’ rumour that’s been going around, huh?’

Lucifer looks up from the phone. Apparently they’ve completed their boring little task and have returned to the table beside him. He slips the device back into his pocket. ‘Hmm?’

‘Rumour?’ Dan exclaims. ‘Oh _seriously_? Does everyone know?’

Ella shrugs. ‘I mean, that collar’s not exactly subtle, dude. Most people are just really happy for you.’

‘Miss Lopez,’ Lucifer slides between them. ‘Would you be so kind as to gather up the girls-night team, and ask them to drinks at Lux tonight? It’s been ages.’

‘Wha-’ she pauses. ‘I mean, sure!’ Ella looks between Lucifer and Dan. ‘Sounds like fun.’

‘We have to go,’ Dan asserts, stepping away from Lucifer. 

‘Assertive, Daniel, Lucifer likes,’ Lucifer says drily, and winks at Ella, who beams back.

‘Ugh,’ Dan groans, and steps out the door, Lucifer on his heels.

-

‘Dan.’

Oh god, what _now_? Dan groans. He turns in his chair to look up at his ex-wife where she stands by his desk, hands on her hips, looking uncharacteristically incensed. 

‘Chloe?’

‘We need to talk.’

Her lips are thin, and she’s looking at him with something like disappointment in her eyes.

‘What the hell have you been doing to Lucifer?’ she asks, and his jaw drops open.

‘You’re kidding me,’ he laughs, incredulously. ‘What have I been doing to _him_? He’s been driving me crazy.’

She eyes him critically. ‘And this rumour that’s going around, that he has to call you ‘ _master_ ’? You’re telling me that’s completely groundless.’

Oh god, of course she heard about that. He closes his eyes.

‘Yeah, didn’t think so,’ she snorts. ‘What the hell, Dan.’

‘I haven’t been making him do _anything_ ,’ he defends, opening his eyes and standing to her height. ‘Look, c’mon, let’s go somewhere else.’

Chloe looks entirely unimpressed, but she turns on her heel and leads the way to an empty corridor.

‘Look, something’s gotten into Lucifer.’ Dan explains. ‘I don’t know what, and I was going to talk to him about it, but not here. I sent him home, because he was bored out of his brain doing paperwork.’

Chloe looks at him for a long moment, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

‘So he’s just been calling you Master for his own enjoyment,’ she says doubtfully.

‘I don’t know!’ Dan defends, arms flailing. ‘But I didn’t tell him to. I tried to make him stop.’

‘Well whatever it is, he needs your support, Dan, not some kind of messed up non-consensual BSDM relationship. Just because he dumped me-’

She stops, a flash of what looks like pain flashing across her face.

Wait. ‘Does the- does the whole precinct think I’m having sex with him?’

She shrugs. ‘More or less. Welcome to my life.’

‘I’m not _gay_!’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘Well,’ she draws the word out. ‘You’re at least _bi_ \- weren’t you messing around with Carlos down in records for a while before we got together?’

‘That’s not the point,’ he complains. 

She just looks at him, unimpressed. ‘Ella’s getting a few of us together to have drinks at Lux. Lucifer’s going to be there - you can talk to him then.’

With that, she turns on her heel and stomps off, presumably to go be terrifying somewhere else.

‘Great,’ Dan says into the empty corridor. ‘That’s… awesome.’


	14. Sounding Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls have a night out, Lucifer is appropriately inappropriate, and Dan kinda hates his life. It's like nothing has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your lovely comments and patience! Frequent updates from now on. We promise*.
> 
>  
> 
> (*Promises may not be redeemable in-store.)
> 
> If you want to see what accrues is up to, feel free to [follow her on twitter](https://twitter.com/accrues), she likes new friends.

Lux is packed when Ella finally appears with Chloe, Maze, and Linda in tow. Lucifer’s standing at the top balcony wearing a favourite pearl grey vest over his dark grey shirt, tailored slacks and jacket adjusted just so. He’s surveys the masses and- pauses, as Dan steps into the club a moment after the ladies, scanning the crowd. He looks quite lovely, Lucifer supposes, carrying his leather jacket, a simple grey tee stretched across his fit chest.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow when Dan finally locks eyes with him, and gestures with his - full - tumbler of whiskey for Dan to join him.

‘Lucifer,’ Dan greets, when he finally makes his way up the stairs and over to Lucifer.

‘Daniel,’ Lucifer greets back. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ He signals to a bartender on the floor for another drink.

‘Uh,’ Dan fidgets a little. ‘Look man, I think we need to talk.’

‘What, _again_? Did our last little deep and meaningful conversation not satisfy your need for navel-gazing?’

Dan shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘It’s about the last week.’

‘Oh bloody hell,’ Lucifer drains his glass. ‘Let’s not talk about our _feelings_ , Daniel. If you feel I’ve done something you disapprove of, just take me in hand.’

He grins ferally. ‘How do you feel about spanking?’ He leers.

‘No,’ Dan says, his voice firm.

‘Shame,’ Lucifer sniffs. ‘All those muscles and you do nothing with them.’

‘See this, this is what I’m talking about,’ Dan says, moving to lean against the balcony railing. ‘You just keep _pushing_ things. I thought- I mean, we talked about this. You wanted to push to see whether I’d snap. I’m not going to punish you,’ he says emphatically.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m well aware,’ he says cooly. 

‘So… I thought we were fine.’

‘We are ‘fine’,’ Lucifer replies, scanning the crowd to lock his gaze on Chloe’s beautiful face as she flicks her hair back and laughs at something Maze is saying. ‘Well, _I’m_ fine. You’re a douche, but that can’t be helped.’

He swallows hard, thinking over the many occasions he’s been obstinate and rude to Dan in the last few days. ‘Or did you want me to be seen and not heard, quiet little slave in the corner? Because,’ he pauses. ‘I can do that. You just need to give the order-’

‘No! _Fuck_ ,’ Dan spits, and Lucifer covers a small flinch. ‘Fuck,’ Dan repeats, voice resigned. He rubs a hand over his face. ‘You’re right. You’re just being… Lucifer. Pain in mine and Chloe’s collective asses, smartass Lucifer.’

Lucifer huffs a small laugh. ‘Well maybe I can be a bit of a douche too, I suppose,’ he allows.

‘Yeah. But it’s great- it’s _good_. I just- this bond stuff. It isn’t a joke to me, Lucifer.’ He glances up, and Lucifer looks over long enough to catch his eye before resuming his perusal of the club. ‘I don’t ever want you to think I take this lightly.’

‘Aww,’ Lucifer croons, stepping away for a moment to collect his refill. ‘That’s sweet,’ he continues, taking a sip and re-joining Dan. ‘And patronising.’

Dan flinches, then throws up his hands, opening his mouth to speak. Lucifer smoothly continues, ignoring him. ‘But has it ever occurred to you that I don’t _want_ you to take this seriously?’

He eyes Dan for a moment. ‘...no?’ Dan offers weakly.

‘I don’t _want_ to think about this bloody thing, but it’s there, all the time. What’s a few jokes between slave and master?’ He takes a deep swig of the whiskey and lets it burn down his chest. ‘ _Chill_ , Daniel. Go find some weed, or maybe some molly. I have a guy-’

‘So you needling me,’ Dan says, apparently undeterred, ‘is helping you feel… better?’

‘I’m not needling you,’ Lucifer deflects with practiced ease. ‘But I can start if that’s what you wish.’ He grins with a sudden thought. ‘I’ve got a sounding kit upstairs, if that’s your thing.’

‘A _what_?’

‘Oh the pain is exquisite,’ Lucifer beams. ‘See, you take the chap’s tackle, right,’ he looks to Dan to make sure he’s following. ‘And and you slide these little needles up his-’

‘Okay, _no_ ,’ Dan waves his hands wildly. ‘ _Jesus_.’

‘Well really,’ Lucifer sniffs, finishing the last of the whiskey. ‘No need to bring him into this. Honestly, Daniel.’ 

He seems to think of something and brightens. ‘Hey, would you like to see my collection of sex toys?’ he says casually into the silent pause. Dan’s jaw drops open.

‘Jesus, _no_ , Lucifer.’

‘Well fine,’ Lucifer huffs. ‘You showed me your movie paraphenalia collection, only seems fair. I was gifted this baby jesus buttplug that-’

‘Oh god,’ Dan turns around, leaning on the railing so he can bury his face. 

‘Well _precisely_ , that’s what I thought,’ Lucifer says cheerfully. ‘I’ve never touched it. A little too weird for my tastes, but maybe _you’d_ like it, since you keep going on about him.’

‘Nope, I’m good,’ Dan mutters into his arms. 

‘Are you sure? A man can never have too many butt plugs.’

‘Oh I’m pretty sure they can,’ Dan replies, raising his face from his arms.

Lucifer grins. ‘What about the rosary anal beads? Good little Catholic boy like you-’

‘Oh god,’ Dan groans. ‘Somewhere, somehow, my Nana is very disappointed in me.’

-

Lucifer has chosen an eclectic mix of songs for his set tonight, Linda muses as she sits in one of Lux’s booths. She's sitting alone, Ella having gone off to dance, Chloe gone to the bar for another round, and Maze… gone to do whatever terrifying thing Maze does. 

He’d opened with a song she’d recognised - Depeche Mode’s _Enjoy the Silence_ , and is following it up with something a lot poppier, with an interesting hook that she vaguely remembers from the radio. A singer Linda doesn’t recognise has joined him on the mic, and she interjects occasionally. 

Oh, the chorus leaves Linda with no uncertainty about the sexual nature of the song - relatively heavy on the kink. That’s why she recognises the hook, she realises. It’s almost verbatim taken from another Depeche Mode song. She leans forward and frowns. It’s been a while, she knows, but - is that a _collar_ around Lucifer’s neck?

They trade off each other at the chorus, Lucifer in the lead.

‘I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it.’

‘Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it.’

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones-’

‘But chains and whips excite me.’

Wow, Lucifer _has_ gone in a different direction to therapy. Or maybe it’s complimentary. Linda’s not one to judge, she met a great many wonderful people in the sex industry and sex positive communities when she was working the sex line. BDSM might not be her scene, but it can definitely work for other people.

They finish the song to a roar of applause - a few people continue grinding on the dance floor, and Lucifer plays it out while his partner leaves the stage. 

The music turns contemplative, and Linda catches Lucifer glance across the room to where a dark-haired man is sitting. He’s solid, but not large the way Lucifer is. A quarterback’s build maybe. Definitely a cop, it’s clear to see. Maybe someone Lucifer works with, but he’s never mentioned anyone in particular, that she remembers.

‘Lucifer doesn’t believe in subtle.’ Linda jumps as Maze joins her, dropping a cocktail down in front of her like it’s burning her skin.

‘What?’ Linda blinks up at Maze through her glasses, slightly dazed by the bright lights in the club. 

‘The song,’ she rolls her eyes. ‘Ever since he used that stupid spell to enslave himself.’

Linda aborts the movement she was making, drawing her straw to her lips. ‘Wait, what?’ 

‘Haven’t you heard?’ Maze looks at her sideways. ‘He’s a moron. All to save Chloe, he bound himself. To a mortal. Can you believe that?’

‘He bound himself to Chloe?’

‘Ugh, no,’ Maze rolls her eyes in disgust. ‘Chloe’s ex. Dan. I guess it could have been worse.’

‘I found Ella,’ Chloe announces dryly, coming up from behind Maze. She indicates at the giggling ME hanging off her arm.

‘Whatever, look, can we talk about something else? I’m done with Lucifer’s bad life choices. I wanna have some _fun_.’

Lucifer wraps up his melodic interlude and moves into something more upbeat, but with an edge, bringing his mouth close to the mounted microphone. ‘Change everything you are, and everything you were. Your number has been called.’ Lucifer’s fingers are hitting the keys in staccato with one hand, the other hand playing out a simple, soft melody while he sings.

Across the room, the cop from before tenses, sitting up. Interesting.

‘That's Dan,’ Ella stage-whispers to Linda, giggling. ‘He's got Lucifer _going_ if you know what I mean.’

‘Fights, battles have been won, revenge will surely come, ohhh, hard times are ahead.’

‘What? Come on Maze,’ Linda pleads her - oh god - demon best friend. ‘He's bound himself? Enslavement, what does that mean? Like... _slaver_ y?’

‘ _Serious_ BDSM stuff,’ Ella drawls. She flops into the booth Linda's sitting at and steals one of the drinks from Chloe.

Maze rolls her eyes again, ‘yeah, it’s kinda in the name.’

‘What does that mean?’ Linda watches Chloe usher Maze to one side in order to slide in beside her.

‘He's like, submissive,’ Ella stage whispers again. ‘Y’know, role play.’

Linda pushes a glass of water Ella's way. It looks like she needs it.

‘It means he's an idiot,’ Maze snaps.

‘Hey,’ Chloe tempers, finishing her cocktail, ‘he did it to save my life,’ she explains, a little sharply. ‘Apparently his ‘ _dad_ ’’ she stresses the word, eyeing Ella ‘tried to kill me. Maybe he doesn’t approve,’ she pokes at her drink darkly. ‘I mean I’m hardly a match for…’ she gestures at the piano. ‘That.’

‘God tried to kill you?’ Linda hisses at Chloe and Maze as Ella flops back into the booth, head moving to the beat.

‘I don’t know why you’re so surprised,’ Maze says drily, ‘he’s kind of a dick. And Decker, you may be many things, but trust me, you shouldn’t care about what _he_ thinks.’

‘Aren’t you kinda… biased?’ Linda asks tentatively. ‘I mean, you are like, anti everything he stands for.’ 

Maze glares at her. Linda leans away a little. She can’t help it.

‘Are you talking about Lucifer’s Dad?’ Ella asks, brow furrowed a little. ‘Get the feeling he doesn’t approve. Is it because he’s an actor?’ her question sounds sympathetic. ‘My parents weren’t really happy when I started boosting wheels.’

‘I’m talking about my screwed up love life, and the fact that everyone at the precinct thinks my ex-husband and my… partner-slash-ex-‘boyfriend’ are having sex,’ Chloe huffs.

‘Wait,’ Ella puts in. ‘They’re _not_ having sex? Is this whole thing just a… I don’t know, sex-free dom/sub thing? Huh.’

‘No one’s having sex,’ Chloe complains, pouting somewhat. ‘He dumped me. Over text. Why do men keep dumping me over text?’

‘Decker needs to get _laid_ ,’ Maze points out. ‘All she’s doing is moping all the time.’

‘Sure okay, like this crazy stuff has ever made sense,’ Linda sighs, ‘but back to the uh, slave thing. This is _Lucifer_. How do you make a _fallen angel_ ,’ she whispers the two words, staring at Ella who’s now slurping loudly with her straw at the bottom of her cocktail, ‘your slave?’ 

‘Dark magick,’ is all Maze will provide. ‘Look, are you coming, or not? I want to dance, and he’s almost done being maudlin.’

Lucifer is playing out a piano solo now, with a few light flourishes and gentle scales. Linda watches carefully as he finishes the solo and leans back to the mic again.

‘Don’t let yourself down, don’t let yourself go. Your last chance has arrived.’ He moves from piano to forte in a quick motion. ‘Best- you’ve got to be the best, you’ve got to change the world and use this chance to be heard. Your time is now.’

As he’s mouthing the last words and belting out a heavy melody to match his vocal forte, Lucifer moves his gaze to lock with the cop - with _Dan_ , Chloe’s ex-husband. It’s an intensity that Linda has rarely seen in Lucifer’s eyes before, almost too intense, too unreal. The song finishes abruptly but with satisfaction, and Lucifer hits the final key while kicking the piano stool backwards and standing.

There’s a brief pause and then the crowd erupts in applause again. Maze tugs on Linda’s arm.

Linda downs her - probably _way_ too expensive to rush - cocktail and lets herself luxuriate in the rush. ‘Woo,’ she whistles, letting the alcohol hit. ‘Let’s do this thing!’

-

Three tall drinks and a dozen songs later, Linda collapses back in the booth, laughing with the exhilaration of the dance floor. She feels like she’s twenty again, drunk off champagne and in the arms of a stranger.

‘Ugh,’ Maze grumbles, as Linda shoulders her in her attempts to get upright. ‘How can you not hold your liquor?’

‘Oh Maze, I am so glad we’re friends.’

‘I’m not,’ Maze grumps, but she reaches out to adjust Linda so that she’s propped up comfortably in the corner of the booth. Whew, what was _in_ those cocktails?

‘Girls!’ Ella Lopez comes bounding up to the table, one hand tugging along a long-suffering Lucifer followed closely by Chloe. ‘Look who I found!’

‘Great,’ Maze snaps. ‘The one person in this place who was definitely going to be here.’

‘Maze,’ Linda chides with a half-repressed giggle. ‘Come sit down, guys. Hi, Lucifer.’

Lucifer is looking around him as if seeking some kind of rescuer. As none is immediately forthcoming, he sighs and approaches the table when Ella tugs. Chloe slides in to one side of Maze. ‘Hello, ladies.’

Maze just raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of… whatever concoction she’s drinking. Linda can smell the vapours from her own seat.

‘Lucifer!’ Linda exclaims. ‘It’s been _forever_.’

‘Yes,’ Lucifer says tightly. ‘Well.’

‘You should drop by tomorrow,’ Linda encourages, grinning and kicking her legs open. Except they’re not doing that anymore. And Chloe and Lucifer are a thing now. ‘Oops!’ She giggles a little to herself.

‘Hmm, well I’m certainly not going to get any sense out of you tonight, that’s for sure,’ Lucifer observes. ‘Just how much alcohol have you had?’

Linda groans and shakes a finger, ‘nonono, this is not about _me_ it’s about _you_.’ She laughs. ‘See what I did there?’

Lucifer snorts out a sigh and looks around him to signal to a waiter, mouthing ‘water’.

‘Tomorrow,’ Linda says, pounding the table with one finger. ‘My office, twelve o’clock. You can tell me all about your new jewelry. _And about Chloe_.’ The last part is a stage whisper that could probably be heard at the other side of the club.

Lucifer’s eyes darken. ‘I’d rather not.’

‘No but you _should_ ,’ Chloe expounds, stabbing at the table with one finger emphatically. ‘Because this is _so_ screwed up, and Dan and I have no idea what to do.’

‘Yes,’ Linda agrees. ‘If you don’t want to, that’s exactly when you should seek therapy,’ Linda encourages. ‘What would d-’ she giggles for a moment on a whim. ‘Mr Decker say?’

‘Espinoza,’ Chloe corrects. ‘I never took his name,’ she mumbles into her cocktail glass. ‘Maybe it was always doomed to fail. It’s _all_ al-’ she stumbles over the identical phonemes and frowns ‘-always doomed to fail.’

Either Chloe’s comment or Linda’s question makes Lucifer pause and turn his head to glance over his shoulder. He finally sighs again, long-suffering. ‘ _Fine_ ,’ he grouses. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Ah, there we are,’ he concludes as the waiter delivers multiple glasses of water to the table. ‘Drink up and,’ he sniffs. ‘Get the Detective home safe in a taxi, Maze would you? I’d rather this whole thing not be for naught.’

‘I’m _fine_ ,’ Chloe protests, sweeping her loose hair out of her face, and propping her head up on one elbow.

Beside Linda, Maze stiffens. ‘I don’t take orders from slaves,’ she snaps, and Lucifer visibly bristles. _He’s the devil_ , Linda’s body reminds her. The fight-or-flight instinct in her badly wants her to run, but the liquor in her has made her docile and sluggish.

‘Woah woah woah,’ Ella says lightly. ‘Dude, it’s just a BDSM thing. Safe, sane, consensual, right? We’re all part of this scene, let’s take it down a notch, yeah?’

Linda looks between the Devil and his demon and thinks _oh god_ , if they start fighting, Ella, Chloe, and Linda are going to get caught in the crossfire.

‘Fine,’ Lucifer says finally, stepping backwards. Interesting. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor. Miss Lopez,’ he pauses before considering her. ‘Detective Decker.’ He nods before he strides off.

‘Wow,’ Maze humphs. ‘Alright ladies, who’s up for more drinks? I’ll get them.’ Maze is eying Lucifer’s retreating back with distaste. ‘Something expensive that I can threaten out of the new bartender.’ She raises from her seat beside Linda, edging past Chloe. ‘Stay here, girls. And you,’ she points at Chloe. ‘I’ll get you home safely because you’re my _friend_ , and not because anyone tells me to.’

‘Uh, thanks?’ Chloe asks, blinking a few times. ‘I guess.’

Maze points at her one last time before turning on her heel and striding off.

‘Huh,’ Ella says, flopping down next to Linda. ‘That was weird.’

-

It's an hour to midnight and Dan is halfway to the bottom of what is probably his third very expensive scotch and trying to ignore the dancers gyrating around him - half of them dressed in some kind of weird kinky leather and collar thing, because Lucifer apparently thinks he's funny and also obviously _hates_ Dan. He sighs, fidgeting restlessly and leans towards the bar. He doesn't really know why he's still here.

It's not that he hasn't enjoyed himself, exactly. The music is, as advertised, amazing - and mortifying. Lucifer had clearly had a ball with his freaking playlist today. 

Dan had nearly choked at his little rendition of ‘S & M’ and had alternated between sheer embarrassment and just a hint of unwanted arousal at the smug and no doubt _deliberately_ lewd things Lucifer had done with his mouth and entire damn body during the song. There's no way watching someone play the piano should be so hot. And, oh God, ‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’. Dan shakes his head to himself in despair and a touch of reluctant awe. Just when he thinks he’s got a handle on Lucifer the man still manages to surprise him. Dan still feels unsettled, _shaken_ even a good hour after that.

And then there's the special kind of hell of watching Lucifer slink about his club smiling and purring and dancing with all manner of unreasonably sexy men and women - and some gorgeous individuals of indeterminate gender. In his tight shiny vest, close-fitting black pants and dark purple button up the exact shade of a day old hickey, he looks like sin itself. And perhaps he is.

Dan knocks back another glass savouring the burn at the back of his throat. He's considering leaving at last to no doubt drown his sorrows with his more affordably priced beer when his ear catches the strains of a familiar song.

_I'm taking a ride_  
_With my best friend_  
_I hope he never lets me down again_

Dan groans. Oh, he's got to be _kidding_.

_Promises me I'm as safe as houses  
As long as I remember who's wearing the trousers_

As Dan is burying his head in his folded arms torn between laughing and crying a voice purrs into his ear darkly. ‘Having fun, Daniel?’

Dan raises his head and turns in the seat to side-eye Lucifer. Because of course it's Lucifer, smirking at him as the chorus thrums around them. 

‘Seriously, man?’ He says, exasperated. ‘Seriously?’

Lucifer gives him a shit-eating grin and pops onto the stool next to him, the long line of his back bending languidly, sensuously towards Dan, legs parted. Dan struggles to keep his eyes up. It’s just possible, he thinks dazedly, that’s he’s had too much to drink.

‘Well, it was either that or ‘Master and Servant’ and I feared that might just be a little too on the nose.’

Dan snorts. ‘Yeah, because all of this was so _subtle_.’

Lucifer grins, but there is edge to it Dan doesn’t quite follow. 

‘You should probably get your dear ex-wife to a bed,’ he suggests. ‘She’s nearly falling asleep at the table.’ He gestures to a booth across the club, where Chloe, true to Lucifer’s word, is slumped over next to a blonde woman Dan hasn’t met, Ella Lopez and… Maze.

Dan watches consideringly. ‘Isn’t she living with Maze? Maze can get her home.’ He stares down at the table. ‘It’s not like I live with her anymore.’

‘Oh come on, buck up,’ Lucifer rolls his eyes. ‘Look, if you’re not having fun, go home. There’s no need to babysit me.’

‘I’m not-’ Dan reconsiders, as Lucifer raises an eyebrow. ‘I just wanted a drink.’

‘In all the bars in LA, you decided to stay in mine. I’m flattered.’

‘Like you didn’t know I was here. All of that-’ he gestures at the speakers. ‘Was more needling, I guess.’

‘Well apparently I have to get it out of my system since it irritates you so,’ Lucifer says mildly. ‘Go on home, Detective Douche, you’re starting to look maudlin. I can’t have a master that’s maudlin, it’s bad for my image.’

With a long, heaved sigh, Dan puts down his glass and stands up. ‘I guess you’re right. I have to get up early to take Trix to school.’

Lucifer pulls a face. ‘That’s the spirit, back to your boring banal life.’

Dan rolls his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he says as Lucifer starts to turn away. Lucifer turns back, a questioning expression on his face. ‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for?’ Lucifer looks ridiculously puzzled. Dan just sighs, shakes his head, and walks out of the club.

-

The next morning he wakes up to find a terrifying statue of a baby sitting on his pillow. He picks it up and stares at it. The statue is attached to a rounded-

Oh _god_. ‘Lucifer!’

He just knows that somewhere out there in LA, the literal devil is curled up in silk sheets and laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter include...
> 
> \- [Never Let Me Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snILjFUkk_A) by Depeche Mode  
> \- [S&M](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdS6HFQ_LUc) by Rihanna (the bridge is taken from [Master and Servant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsvfofcIE1Q) by Depeche Mode, and I will forever hate her for that but Lucifer picked it and we couldn't say no ~ accrues)  
> \- A piano acoustic version of [Roses and Butterflies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3LrFmH8rjc) by Muse.
> 
> Dan should just be happy Lucifer didn't go with [Venus in Furs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK8ijrapwA8) imho. Oooh or maybe [Blue Monday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYH8DsU2WCk)? There's a whole playlist worth of songs on my iTunes... ~ accrues


	15. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer checks in for a long overdue session with Linda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and indeed, story) is brought to you by the amazing accrues who, it must be said, has magic Erya-compelling powers.  
> Apologies again for the delay (mea culpa, mea maxima culpa) - real life and work is a veritable demon, I swear.  
> We're endeavouring to make up for lost time and reward you all for your patience. :P 
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments! Hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> ~Erya

‘Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Doctor.’

Lucifer lowers himself elegantly onto Linda’s sofa, folding one long leg over the other. 

Linda smiles back at him, adjusting her heavy-framed glasses, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Those shots may just, in retrospect, have been ill-advised. Still, amazing at the time though even if her recollection of the night is a bit fuzzy.

‘It’s not a problem, Lucifer. I'm glad you decided to come. I've been a little worried - you haven’t made any appointments since you cancelled following your trip to Las Vegas.’

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably, tapping at the sofa. ‘Yes. I'm sorry, it's been a rather - trying few weeks.’

She leans forward over her notepad, face concerned. ‘So I've heard.’ She pauses before saying delicately, ‘Chloe and Maze spoke to me last night at Lux. They seemed… concerned about how you're doing lately.

Lucifer snorts. ‘Maze? Concerned? More like loudly disapproving.’ He uncrosses his legs. ‘We had a bit of a knock-out row over it,’ he elaborates irritably.

Linda winces, not wanting to imagine what a ‘knock-out row’ between a demon and the Devil himself might look like. At least he doesn’t look battered half to death this time. ‘Well, maybe her - disapproval - is just her way of showing that she's worried about you.’

Lucifer looks unconvinced. ‘Maze doesn’t worry. She stabs, claws and occasionally disembowels. It's the only way she knows how to express herself.’ He gives her a sharp, jaded smile. ‘My fault, probably, but it's not like I learnt my own perfect emotional health at my dad’s loving knee either.’

Linda nods cautiously and tries to redirect him. ‘Do you see why she might be a little upset though?’

At his silence she gently presses on. ‘From what I understand, what you did, Lucifer - it was pretty drastic.’ Her eyes drop almost against her will to his collar, which glints innocuously in the soft light of her office. 

Lucifer gives a short sardonic huff, lips drawn into a cold closed-mouth smile, eyes sharp. ‘And what would you know about what I did?’ He maintains eye contact for a moment, bitter and almost confrontational before looking away.

Linda slowly nods, thoughtfully allowing the point. ‘Nothing. You're right.’ She crosses her legs and rests her notepad on her knees. ‘Which is why I would appreciate you telling me about it.’

At his silence she smiles, trying to project a non-threatening aura. ‘I know I'm only a mortal and that this is - heavy. But you're my patient, Lucifer and someone I care about. This is clearly distressing for you and I'd like to understand as much as I'm able. I'd like to help.’

At this Lucifer swallows and stares out the window, shoulders slumping. ‘But you can't help me. No-one can.’

She takes in his defeated air and posture, worried. ‘I'm sure that's not true, Lucifer,’ she assures him quietly. ‘Often when things are difficult we feel there's no way out, that we're alone, but if life and my patients have taught me anything it's that things are almost never as bleak as they first look.’

Lucifer snorts and shifts on the couch, giving her a tight, insolent grin which doesn't reach his eyes. ‘Well I can assure you Doctor, that in my case they definitely are.’ He swallows, eyes looking very dark and old. ‘There’s no helping me.’

‘And what is it you need help with?’ His puzzled look is more or less expected, so she expands. ‘From what Maze attempted to tell me, this curse ‘binds you’ to this… man? Detective Decker’s ex-husband? What exactly does that mean?’

‘It means I’m his slave,’ he snaps. His eyes are darkening even further with anger, his whole form becoming tight. ‘The magick controls my body, so that I must obey his every whim.’

‘I can understand how that would be terrifying,’ Linda empathises.

‘Can you?’ He snaps. ‘You, who has lived in relative freedom your entire life? I was a servant to my Father from my very moment of creation. The sole moment I broke free, I was cast into Hell by my own brother as punishment, to do his bidding, to do what _he_ wanted. And that’s not even to mention the political battles I had to fight, the things I had to endure, to keep any semblance of control in the Pit.’

He’s gazing out the window, like he’s not even aware that he’s talking, almost fully dissociated. But he snaps out of it quickly, turning back to eye her. ‘Five short human years free from his hold and I’m back on a leash again.’

‘You’re right. I don’t understand fully,’ she allows, recrossing her legs. ‘But I do understand fear, Lucifer. What I want to better appreciate, is what that fear pertains to. I don’t know this man, or what he might do.’ Lucifer snorts at her, disdainfully, but she presses on. ‘Does he hurt you? Make you do things you don’t want to?’

‘Yes,’ Lucifer snaps instantly, and she nods at him encouragingly. He glares a little, and then softens.

‘Well, I suppose not. I mean, there was an adjustment period where he Danned things up,’ Lucifer offers her, and she tilts her head inquiringly. He sighs, a rough exhale of air. ‘You know, ordering me to do things when he was really suggesting, that sort of thing. But no, I guess not, not as you’re implying.’

‘But if he told you to do something, you would be bound to do it?’

‘That’s the general gist of the sitch, yes.’ He slumps back into the sofa, pushing the tails of his jacket aside. 

‘Has he-’ she pauses, an ugly thought coming to mind. ‘Did he force you to break things off with Chloe?’

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. ‘No!’ He looks uncomfortable for a moment, like words are on the tip of his tongue, but none come out. They sit in the quiet for a moment before she prods him.

‘Lucifer?’

‘Well.’ He exhales, smoothing his hands along nonexistent creases on his trousers. ‘I realised I couldn’t give Chloe what she needed. She deserves many things, all of them good, and I find myself lacking in that regard.’

‘You think you don’t deserve her.’

He casts his gaze back out the window, and she lets him ponder.

‘I know a thing about just deserts, Doctor, and I am a burden she does not deserve. Especially not now.’

There is a lot buried deep inside there, but Linda knows better than to push too hard right now. Too many old hurts, the scars Lucifer bears from the countless eras he’s lived through- she tries not to think too hard about it.

‘Has Daniel Espinoza taken advantage in any other way?’

Lucifer looks sour at the change in topic, but it’s better than the dark pain that had been sketched across his face. ‘I suppose not.’

‘What do you think that means?’

‘Well the man is clearly spineless, I mean-’

‘No, Lucifer,’ Linda cuts across him, shaking her head. ‘About you, what do you think that means about his regard for you?’

‘I suppose,’ he lets the word hang for a moment, considering, ‘that it means our good _Detective Dan_ doesn’t want to take advantage. Or at least he’s playing a long game about it.’

‘I understand that you have trust issues, that go back a long way past Dan and Chloe, all the way back to your Father,’ she hedges, and Lucifer straightens from his slump, face growing dark.

‘And you have good reasons to be suspicious,’ she affirms. ‘I know that. Has he said anything to reassure you that he won’t take advantage?’ Lucifer’s jaw tightens, and Linda can’t help but sigh - internally this time. ‘Lucifer?’

‘He has… made attempts,’ he allows. He huffs and regards her irritably. ‘He's got this odd notion into his weird misshapen little head that he needs to care of me.’ He catches the look on her face and nods emphatically. ‘I know! I'm the Devil for Dad's sake - I don’t need to be taken care of or cosseted. I'm not an infant.’

Linda watches him and searches for a way to put this. ‘No, you're not, but it's natural to want to look after someone you care about. Were you close before this?’

Lucifer shrugs. ‘Not close, no, but I knew him from the precinct and we were - becoming friends, I suppose.’ He falls silent, contemplative.

Linda allows him a moment to think. ‘Has that changed?’

Lucifer regards her blankly. ‘He’s my Master,’ he says dully.

‘Right,’ she agrees slowly, stomach turning over, ‘but is that mutually exclusive with being your friend?’

Lucifer looks down at his hands. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally admits. ‘I’ve never really had friends before. Maze, but she doesn’t count.’

‘Not…’ Linda has no idea how to ask this, and is vaguely afraid she might be falling back into the trap of asking too many questions for her own curiosity. ‘Not even in Hell?’

At this, Lucifer lifts his head and studies her face, his mouth setting in a hard line. ‘No. Hell is a monarchy. I was an angel in a world of demons and the fallen - my race and position made me-’ he pauses. ‘Different. Superior.’

‘And you feel Daniel is your superior now,’ Linda offers tentatively. ‘Maybe your past experiences make you think that means he can’t be your friend?’

The prospect makes Lucifer look slightly crushed for a moment before his features smooth into a mask. As painful as it is to watch, it’s promising.

‘No, Doctor,’ his rejection is gentle, but she can hear the heavy weight of weary resignation in his voice. ‘I’m certain it means he can’t be my friend. What’s more proof than millennia of experience?’

She pauses, and considers her response. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about Dan?’

Lucifer laughs, and runs a hand through his loose curls. ‘What’s there to tell? He’s fit, in a square, blocky kind of way. Likes his puddings, is disgustingly vanilla, and has a questionable taste in women.’

Linda raises her eyebrows at that, given Lucifer’s obvious affection for Chloe and Lucifer laughs shortly. ‘He had sex with my mother.’

‘Oh.’ Well. Huh. ‘Well,’ she prevaricates, ‘she is the goddess of all creation,’ she muses.

Lucifer scoffs. ‘Come now, Doctor, not you too,’ he chides, and she shakes her head, blinking a few times to clear it. 

‘Right,’ she agrees. ‘Are they still…’

‘Oh no,’ he shakes his head. ‘He was just a tool in her arsenal. Another pawn for my ‘parents’ to use in manipulating my life,’ he spits.

There’s something else there, she can see it, and it makes her crinkle her brow. ‘Lucifer?’ But his jaw is set, and he very purposefully trades her eye contact with gazing out the window. 

Linda sighs. ‘Okay,’ she allows quietly. ‘Let’s go back to Dan. How does his relationship with Chloe make you feel?’

Lucifer’s eyes snap back to stare at her. ‘Because of my affection for her?’ he queries. 

Linda shrugs. The sun is starting to lower, sliding light down her wall and casting Lucifer in new shadows. ‘Or because of your affection for him,’ she suggests. 

Lucifer scoffs. ‘I don’t have affection for him,’ he counters. ‘At most he’s my… ‘friend’, and at worst he’s the man holding my leash.’

Linda hums noncommittally. ‘Does their relationship bother you at all?’

‘They’re separated,’ Lucifer says shortly.

‘That’s true,’ Linda agrees, crossing her legs. ‘But a relationship does not have to be romantic. They’re involved in each other’s lives are they not? Work together, raise a child together? They have for each other something you cannot compete with. It makes you feel alone.’

‘Again with this loneliness,’ Lucifer snaps. ‘I am never alone, Doctor.’

‘Yes, you frequently engage in sexual acts with strangers,’ she agrees drily. ‘Has it occurred to you what you’re looking for is not just sexual, but also relational?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he comments stubbornly. She sighs.

‘You want to be in a loving relationship with the Detective,’ she suggests, and his jaw tightens, but doesn’t disagree. ‘But maybe,’ she stresses the word, keeping his attention, ‘you also want to be in a loving relationship with her husband as well.’

‘Ex-husband,’ Lucifer snaps, obviously out before he could stop it. Linda just raises her eyebrows.

‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting that,’ Linda suggests softly.

‘I don't want that,’ Lucifer replies hotly. ‘I don’t want to be in a ‘loving’ relationship with- with Daniel Espinoza. Why the bloody hell would anyone want that? It baffles me on a near daily basis that Chloe apparently once did.’

Linda just looks on, sympathetic. After a few moments, he shifts awkwardly on the couch.

‘Regardless,’ he waves a hand and continues in a tone that sounds suspiciously like a bluff to Linda's ears, ‘it doesn’t matter what I want. I am not his equal, I never have been- I’ve always been something greater, or something lesser. How can I love a man who has total control over my existence?’

Oh shit, she suddenly realises. ‘You loved your Father, didn’t you?’

He freezes. He doesn’t still, not the way a human might, but freezes completely, like he were an excruciatingly detailed statue. The only thing that changes, that she can see, is a flicker in his eyes, like the flames of hell are trying to emerge, burning him alive from the inside. Finally he speaks, and the noise is nothing like anything she’s ever heard before.

‘Daniel is nothing like my Father.’

Chills run down Linda’s spine and she can’t help but glance at the door, calculating her chances if she runs- maybe she could make it. Maybe if she feinted: toward the window?

But this is Lucifer, she remembers. And she did this. She pulled him apart, and now she has to put him back together again.

‘I’m not suggesting he is,’ she says softly. ‘I was just drawing a brief parallel between the Father you loved, who controlled your existence and hurt you badly, and the man who you believe now controls your life. Is it possible you’re scared that if you love him, he could hurt you the same way?’

There’s silence, and she starts thinking maybe she can’t fix this. He’s gone still again, eyes now a dark, blood red. Finally, he speaks again, and the roar of power and anger that had rushed forward with his previous words gives way to a raw voice of pain. ‘I care about them.’

‘That’s great, Lucifer,’ Linda enthuses.

‘Is it?’ He looks raw, like he’s been ripped open to expose his nerves.

‘I know Chloe cares about you. And she will go to the ends of the Earth to protect you, just as you went to hell to protect her.’ His jaw tightens, and she frowns sympathetically. ‘You need to be open to the possibility that your growing ties might be a good thing.’

‘Slavery is never a good thing,’ he bites back darkly, and she hurries to agree.

‘Of course! I’m not saying it is,’ she says firmly. ‘But what might have happened if Chloe had never needed you to enact this… bond? Would you and she have grown closer still? Would you and Dan?’

His jaw is set firmly, but he doesn’t disagree. ‘I know Chloe is offering her love, and you said Dan feels a need to ‘coddle’ you. Has it ever occurred to you to take that love? To let them love you?’

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs, glancing briefly at her watch. ‘I have another patient,’ she says gently. ‘But you know you can call any time. In the meantime, maybe it would be worth the experiment. Don’t push them away, Lucifer. They care.’

Lucifer closes his eyes, expression pained. ‘Yes, well,’ he says. ‘Maybe that’s the problem.’


	16. Axolotl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More talking. Trixie makes an appearance, and Lucifer almost suffers death-by-cookie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early Christmas present for some of you. Plus axolotls for my fellow aces. Represent.

Lucifer arrives at the house Detective Decker cohabits with her small spawn and demon housemate (a disaster in the making if he's ever heard of one) thirty minutes before the sprog is due home with her lovely mother.

Just enough time for him to pour himself a drink and settle on the settee to ponder his lot in life. 

In the silence of the Detective’s distressingly plain living room, his fingers fidget unconsciously across mother-of-pearl buttons, as his thoughts briefly turn to the disquieting conversation he'd just been subject to with the good doctor. 

About _love_. Dad- _Hell_ help him.

Fortunately, Lucifer before can dwell too deeply on thoughts about the ‘L word’ as it were (ha!), the sound of a door slamming shut meet his ears, and the offspring, all pigtails and teeth rushes through the front door. 

She's on his lap before Lucifer even has the chance to properly defend himself.

‘Lucifer!’ she beams at him as he hastily leans backwards, attempting to put at least some distance between her tiny sharp teeth and his own precious face. ‘What are you drinking?’

Despite her violent and unprovoked attack, Lucifer has managed to not spill a single drop of the bottom-shelf scotch he found in Maze’s room. He lifts it to his lips, passing his elbow carefully between his own chest and her seemingly gaping maw. ‘Johnny Walker,’ he explains. ‘It’s not particularly good.’

‘That’s a name.’ Her creepily miniature features crinkle in confusion and he huffs a little, prepared to agree with her, when the detective passes through the front door herself, arms laden with groceries. 

‘Trixie? Was the front door ope- oh.’ She stops in the doorway, glancing between Lucifer’s face and Trixie’s, and hesitates. ‘Hi Lucifer,’ she says slowly as he automatically straightens. ‘Is Maze home or…?’

‘I let myself in,’ he says faux-cheerily, attempting to extricate himself from beneath the small - and deceptively strong - child. ‘Go fetch, spawn, I need my legs for other purposes.’

The imp gives him another quizzical look, but happily slides off his lap with a half-decent approximation of contrition. He's almost impressed.

The Detective eyes him wryly from where she's still awkwardly standing in the doorway. ‘She does have a name you know. You could use it.’

Lucifer feigns a look of surprise. ‘Does she now? And here I thought she was named in honour of an exotic dancer of Dan’s acquaintance.’

Chloe seems deeply unimpressed and Lucifer favours her with a grin. The diminutive brat regards him with disgusting cheer. ‘I like it when you call me spawn!’ She announces unprompted. 

Lucifer eyes her dubiously. ‘Do you? Beatrice it is then.’

And with that witty repartee, he turns to Chloe, thinking to relieve her of her burden of shopping, but Chloe, for some reason avoids his gaze and starts walking over to the (atrociously under-furnished) kitchen. ‘Go start your homework, Monkey, and I’ll bring you your snack.’

‘Okay!’ Beatrice chirps, and Lucifer watches in bemusement as she dashes off into her bedroom, pigtails bouncing and satchel dragging along the ground behind her.

‘So what, you’re back to breaking into my house then?’ Chloe asks, one hand on her hip while she does something bizarre - and sadly non-sexual - with peanut butter and a stick of celery.

‘Well, Chloe,’ he says carefully disguising his automatic pulse of surprise, ‘I seem to remember a few uninvited visits to my own abode. Thought I would return the favour.’

She blushes a slight pink, and goes back to her snack preparation, tipping a handful of Goldfish crackers onto the plate before reaching up above the fridge to source a red tupperware container that holds a wealth of cookies. He goes to sneak one once she opens the lid, but she shoots him a dirty look.

‘What?’ He attempts to offer her a guileless smile. ‘Slaves need sustenance too, you know.’

Her face crumples at the remark and he feels abruptly regretful for the barb. She doesn’t say anything though, just replaces the lid on the container once portioning out a meagre two for the sprog (and none for him, he notes, which is just unfair). ‘How is that going, anyway?’ she asks, levelly, and he swallows.

What is with these people, treating him as if he’s so bloody fragile?

‘How's what going?’ He asks innocently. ‘If you mean my continued attempts to educate Detective Douche on the finer points of bondage, I-’

‘Lucifer,’ she interrupts softly. The words make him fall silent, arrested by the kind and earnest cast of her well-loved face. 

_Let them love you_ , he remembers and makes an impulsive decision he's almost certain he will regret. 

He draws in a breath and looks down slightly. ‘It's, I-’ he falters. ‘I don't know,’ he says at last, honestly. ‘The good Doctor believes I am being… cautious around dear Daniel out of fear.’ He scoffs a little, ignoring the whispering doubt that nestles in his chest, the feeling that perhaps she’s correct.

Chloe’s hand reaches out to lay over his, warm and achingly gentle ‘Lucifer, it's okay to be afraid.’

No, he thinks. It isn't. Even after all this time, he's still a warrior, a fighter. Fear has no place in battle.

‘Perhaps,’ he allows, for her benefit. 

‘How about you take this to Trix and we’ll eat the rest of the cookies with coffee?’ Her smile is sweet, so kind and loving despite the new awkward distance between them it makes his heart hurt. ‘Just don't let her know, or she'll be out here begging for more.’

‘Why on earth would you deny her?’ The idea is bizarre, especially if they intend to consume five times the amount between them.

Chloe just snorts and shakes her head, pouring out half a glass of juice. ‘You have clearly never had to deal with a seven year old on a sugar high. Go on, I'll put the machine on.’

He eyes the glass and plate dubiously. ‘Fine, I'll fetch and carry for you,’ he offers generously. She just huffs a small tinkling laugh and shakes her head.

The spawn is lying on her stomach, pencil hovering over an oddly designed piece of paper. ‘Lucifer!’ She grins toothily up at him, and he settles the small plate on her bed covers, looking around for a suitable place to leave her juice. ‘What's an axolotl?’

He frowns down at her and decides the bedside table will suffice for her drink.

‘It's an amphibian.’ 

She blinks at him and reaches straight for the cookies, at the exact same time Chloe yells ‘celery first, Trix,’ and Beatrice smoothly changes the trajectory of her reach to aim for the celery instead, a pout forming on her strange little face.

‘What’s an am-phi-bi-an?’ she asks disgustingly around a mouthful of crunchy celery. She clearly inherited more than just her hair from her father, Lucifer notes with disdain as he eyes her skeptically.

‘They’re ectothermic tetrapod vertebrates,’ he explains simply, only for the child to continue staring at him in what appears to be debilitating confusion. ‘Slimy horrid little things,’ adds helpfully, ‘like your father.’

‘Frogs are amphibians,’ Chloe says, appearing in the doorway and whacking Lucifer in the shoulder. 

‘Oh!’ Beatrice exclaims in understanding. ‘Do they jump?’

Lucifer just frowns at her, rubbing his shoulder dramatically. ‘Why are you asking so many questions? Is there not a better source of information than the limited mind of your mother?’

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe sighs, and he glances sideways at her in query. ‘Why don’t you go on wikipedia, Trix? That way you can keep clicking the links if you find something you don’t understand.’

At the mention of whatever a wikipedia is, Beatrice’s eyes light up. ‘I can use the internet?’

Chloe sighs again. ‘I guess. But only while you’re doing your homework, okay?’ She disappears from the room and Beatrice scoops up a few goldfish, munching happily and much too noisily.

Lucifer wrinkles his nose at her, and she wrinkles hers back in response. 

‘Do you want to kiss my mommy?’ She asks suddenly of Lucifer. ‘Because you should, you know. She needs to be kissed.’

Lucifer blinks in surprise and opens his mouth to answer - only for Chloe to interject in a slightly too high-pitched voice. ‘Of course he doesn't, Monkey.’

And Lucifer’s startled look, she continues in that same odd tone, not quite looking at him. ‘I mean, we're not together any more so, um. He's not going to - I mean I wouldn't...’ 

The Detective trails off under the combined stares of her offspring and Lucifer.

‘Here,’ she says hastily, passing over an open laptop before either Lucifer or the spawn could speak. ‘Finish your snack and go wash your hands before you use the keyboard,’ she says, looking, to Lucifer's slightly haunted eyes. 

Trixie accepts the laptop reluctantly and makes to trot off to her room. ‘Alright,’ she says, before looking at her mother severely. ‘But I think you're wrong, mommy. You definitely deserve to be kissed.’ 

She nods as though to herself and promptly scampers off, no doubt to her den, leaving Lucifer and Chloe in awkward silence.

-

‘Kids, right?’

Chloe’s voice sounds a little forced and she shifts uneasily on the sofa next to Lucifer.

‘Yes, quite.’ Lucifer returns quickly, and allows that he himself may be a little less than perfectly equanimous. ‘Kids,’ he adds a little distastefully.

They studiously manage to avoid looking at each other for an awkward beat. Lucifer licks his lips, about to speak before clearing his throat. As though in answer he hears Chloe hum uncertainty. 

He goes to break the silence again before deciding that ‘ladies first’ was definitely an excellent policy in need of further consideration. Another agonising moment passes to the ticking of the clock. 

Lucifer curses under his breath and, to quiet his nerves, pilfers a biscuit - ooh, peanut brittle - too swiftly to take heed of Chloe’s abrupt ‘Lucifer, don't’ and munches.

The sound of the peanut brittle against his teeth breaks the resounding awkward silence. 

It's godawful. And yes, Lucifer means that _utterly_.

The biscuit inexplicably manages to break into what feels like a thousand cruel sharp little shards practically slicing at his tongue and gum, and, oh bloody Morpheus, the nut.

Lucifer gags and, without a second thought spits the offending implement of torture into his poor monogrammed hanky. 

He stares at the resulting mess, horrified. He could swear there was a streak of his blood decorating the slime.

‘What in the name of _Hell_?’

A noise interrupts his appalled musings and he turns to stare at Chloe who is shaking from her seat on the sofa beside him. 

Her face is red and scrunched up and he starts, worried that she's in some kind of pain - maybe the accursed dessert has attacked her too? Lucifer has seen stranger things, and that's just considering LA - but then she bursts into peals and peals of laughter and Lucifer’s alarm fades away into a general sense of miffed-ness.

‘Oh, my pain amuses you, does it?’ He enquires archly. ‘Why, I never took you for a sadist.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Chloe says, between breaths, soothing some of Lucifer’s ruffled feathers (figuratively, of course, the actual feathers are so much ash and char courtesy of a lighter and Amenadiel’s hubris).

‘It's just - your face!’ She breaks into another bout of mirth while Lucifer huffs, reluctantly feeling his own mouth twitch.

‘Why the me have you got these blasted things?’ He demands. ‘What on earth are they made of, bloody razors?’

Chloe snorts, eyes still bright and more alive than he'd seen them for a weeks. ‘Close,’ she says dryly. At his look she explains in longsuffering tones, ‘Maze made them with Trixie.’

Lucifer stares at the tin, appalled. ‘And you leave them near the urchin?’

Chloe gave him a _look_. ‘I leave them near _Trixie_ ,’ she empathises, ‘because Trixie knows not to steal.’

Lucifer gives her an unconvinced look.

‘Well,’ she amends, ‘She knows not to steal _those_. Maze has her death-glare down pat.’

Lucifer snorts. ‘Always knew Mazikeen would be the death of me. Just never thought it would be by biscuit.’

This, for some baffling reason, seemed to send the Detective off again. Lucifer watched in bemusement - and affection - as she laughed herself silly. 

‘Are you quite alright?’ He can't help but ask. At her questioning look, he huffs. ‘You don't tend to be so,’ he waves a hand expressively before settling on, ‘giggly.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ she says, sobering slightly. He's sorry to see it. 

‘I don't mind,’ he adds hastily. ‘Even if it is at my suffering. I suppose we all need a bit of a laugh.’

‘You most of all.’ He adds, almost awkwardly.

Silence falls between for a moment. It feels heavy to Lucifer, as if Chloe - and maybe, just maybe Lucifer himself- were waiting for something long overdue. 

‘Detective, I-’

But before he could finish his sentence he feels lips upon his own, feels her hand, gentle but firm against his face as she presses closer.

With a jolt he realises this is happening, that they are happening and a sudden warmth seems to infuse his body and soul, like a sun had been ignited within him.

He suddenly - and for the first time in a long time - doesn't know where to put his hands, but he edges closer and his hands fall to rest on her waist just above her soft hips. 

One or other of them makes a noise, of what other than urgency he couldn't possibly define, but she seems to press closer, mouth pushing against his more fiercely.

It’s almost bruising, how urgently she kisses him, and he loves it, needs the solid press of her mouth against his, he'd quite honestly, in this moment, sell his soul just so long as this never ended-

‘LOOK LUCIFER I FOUND AN AXOLOTL.’

Their mouths break apart just as suddenly as they came together, stunned into silence and staring at the small child standing in front of them. She has half a cookie in one hand - how she can eat those things is beyond him - her grinning mouth spotted with crumbs. The other hand is holding the laptop precariously, and on the screen there is indeed an albino axolotl.

Lucifer wants to know what the sprog - an actual demon he's fairly convinced now - wants from him, but Chloe is just giggling again (maybe something is wrong with her?), soft but uncontrollable from beside him, her laughter reverberating through his own ribcage where she’s still pressed against him. 

Beatrice’s look is disturbingly knowing as she stuffs the rest of the cookie in her mouth. ‘I’m gonna go finish my homework,’ she announces cheerfully, spitting crumbs onto the clean carpet. ‘You go back to kissing.’

Chloe’s laughter just intensifies, and even Lucifer can’t help the smile that’s twitching at his lips as Beatrice tiptoes away, the container of cookies in her now free hand.

Chloe’s head comes to a rest against his shoulder and he hesitantly curls an arm around her back, hoping to keep her with him - if not forever than at least a little longer.

They sit together contentedly for a while as the clock ticks on.

-

‘We care about you,’ Chloe says softly into the quiet sometime later. ‘Me and Dan. You need to know that, Lucifer, and actually believe us when we say it, if we’re going to keep this going.’

He’s silent in response, the words eerily similar to what Doctor Linda had suggested just that afternoon. 

‘Okay,’ he finally accepts, arm curled tight around his - around his, and unwilling to let go. 

‘I will try.’

The kiss that comes next, is for once completely uninterrupted.

-

‘What the hell is this?’

Chloe frowns as she looks up from the mound of papers on her desk, Lucifer lounging beside her like a great - and deeply bored - panther. From the occasional high pitched squeals emanating from his phone, she thinks he's playing Angry Birds because although - as he informs her - he'd _gladly_ die for her (he seems to miss her flinch at that), he still considers paperwork a fate worse than death. Apparently.

Lucifer’s head has also snapped up in response to the question, as Dan strides toward them, and his face quickly turns from surprise to a far too knowing smirk.

Dan slams something down on Chloe’s desk, a small metal object encased in a clear evidence bag.

‘Didn’t you like my present, sir?’ Lucifer asks innocently, and Dan glares at him. Chloe is too busy trying to figure out what the thing is and why it’s in evidence, albeit without any labelling or file numbers, to swat him over the ridiculous honorific.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s a b-’

‘Lucifer!’ Dan snaps. ‘It’s a… sex toy,’ he grits out reluctantly. ‘One that Lucifer decided I needed, apparently.’

‘Yeah okay,’ she accepts dubiously - that does sound like something Lucifer would do, it’s not even close to out of the realm of possibility these days, ‘but is that a face?’

‘It’s a baby jesus buttplug,’ Lucifer explains with disturbing enthusiasm, obviously ignoring Dan as he slaps his own face in exasperation. 

Well. That’s horrifying.

‘I need to burn it,’ Dan decides as she pries her gaze from the evidence bag and up to him. ‘It has to be burned. With fire. God, all the fire.’

‘Why Daniel? How do you think God would feel about burning such a holy object? Besides, it hasn’t even been used yet. I would have thought you had better uses for it than melting it into slag.’ Lucifer has a shit-eating grin on his face as he stretches out carelessly in his chair. ‘Me, for example.’

‘Oh god, I don’t want to have this conversation,’ Dan mutters. 

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe sighs, covering a smile. ‘Leave him alone.’

‘Me?’ Lucifer protests with appalling innocence. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ she grumbles, looking down at the pile of paperwork she has yet to complete, and the stupid game application still open on his phone.

‘We _could_ do something,’ Lucifer suggests, a lewd expression starting to cross his face, eyes on the evidence bag. ‘You have this lovely desk right here and-’

Dan’s pocket emits a sound suddenly, and her own buzzes against her leg. ‘Oh thank god,’ Dan mutters, ignoring Lucifer’s huff.

‘Body,’ he offers after a beat. ‘I have to go.’

‘Me too,’ Chloe concurs, checking the message on her own phone.

‘Finally,’ Lucifer says emphatically. ‘I was beginning to expire from boredom.’

‘I wish,’ Dan mutters under his breath, ignoring Lucifer’s overly hurt look in response. 

Chloe stands, absently checking her gun holster, aware of Lucifer bouncing up next to her, face lit with unholy glee 

‘Ready?’ she asks him, mouth twitching upwards despite herself.

Lucifer favours her with her favourite grin, all warm bright eyes and mischievous smile. ‘Oh I was born ready, Detective,’ he purrs, ‘And, yes, I do mean that quite literally.’

Chloe rolls her eyes as Dan snorts beside her, muttering under his breath, ‘Here we go again.’

She walks out of the bullpen, smiling to herself as Dan and Lucifer follow in her wake, already bickering. 

And as they walk out into the sunlight, the men she loves by her side, her daughter safe and sound and a crime waiting to be solved, Chloe Decker finally allows herself to feel - happy. 

-

She doesn’t remember the sex toy sitting on her desk until much, much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Book 1 (of 3) aka the book of talking. Bring on Book 2, where the action really starts...


	17. Back to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get back to normal, except Dan has this creeping suspicion that not everything is as it seems...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, hope you have some time to yourselves to curl up and read this, wherever you are and however you're spending this season. It's warm here, so I'm probably drinking gin and Pimms, and Erya is... living under her birdbath? idk ~ accrues
> 
> ...welcome to Book 2

And so they go back to normal, back to the way things _should_ be and Dan is blissfully almost able to forget the whole _bond thing_ even happened.

Until something reminds him.

It's little things at first, the way Lucifer rarely walks alongside him but seems to prefer trailing a step or two in his wake. The way he seems eager to anticipate Dan's needs, a pen here, fresh coffee on his desk there, even paperwork immaculately filled out and awaiting his signature - as if Dan didn't know Lucifer _hates_ paperwork.

Dan doesn’t know what to do or say about it, because as far as he can tell Lucifer doesn't even seem to be aware he's _doing it_. He absently makes these little gestures, face distant as though thinking of something else before smiling widely whenever Dan makes any kind of positive response to it.

But after Lucifer moves a week later to help relieve Dan of his jacket, warm, deft hands absently squeezing on Dan’s overly tight shoulders in a way that shouldn't be pleasurable, Dan snaps.

He yanks out of Lucifer’s loose hold and grabs his arm, tugging him insistently into a thankfully abandoned storage closet.

Lucifer blinks at him, eyes huge in the dark and stands against the door looking puzzled. ‘Dan? What's wrong?’

Dan shifts agitatedly from foot to foot and puts his hands on his hips. ‘What are you doing?’ he blurts.

Lucifer blinks, a wrinkle appearing at his brow. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. I appear to be standing with you in a closet. Story of our lives if you ask me.’

Dan ignores him. ‘No, man.’ He hesitates before finally saying, ‘With the touching. And the-’ he waves a hand around, impatiently inarticulate, ‘-helpfulness.’ He finishes lamely.

Lucifer looks genuinely confused. ‘What helpfulness? I thought we'd established _you're_ the helpful one of the two of us. The tool.’

Dan shifts uneasily and rubs his mouth with his index finger. ‘You don't even know you're doing it,’ he says numbly.

Lucifer is beginning to look irritated now, moving closer to Dan and scowling slightly. ‘Doing _what_?’

Dan swallows and eyes him, wishing he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut or at least talked to Chloe about it first. He bites the bullet. ‘Um, you keep doing things, man,’ he says, before quickly carrying on as Lucifer frowns. ‘Little things, like picking up after me and helping out, bringing me food, that sort of thing.’ He frowns hesitantly. ‘You really didn't know you were doing it?’

Lucifer stands pale and looking faintly nauseated. He shakes his head almost disbelievingly before stepping back away from Dan and all but blurting, ‘May I go?’

Dan starts but automatically nods and before he can say another word Lucifer is out of the closet, leaving Dan standing alone next to the mops and toilet paper.

-

Lucifer avoids him for the rest of the morning until, unfortunately for him, they catch a case.

It's a big one apparently, and the Lieutenant assigns Dan assist Chloe (and therefore Lucifer) with the investigation. Because that's just Dan's luck.

Dan drives to the crime scene and hesitantly approaches Chloe and Lucifer. Lucifer is studiously looking away from him, inspecting the covered form of the corpse at their feet.

Chloe is oblivious, flicking through the case file, fair hair messily tucked into her usual ubiquitous ponytail. Dan clears his throat. ‘Hey, what have we got?’

Chloe frowns distractedly before looking up and nodding for the techs to pull up the sheet. ‘See for yourself.’

The corpse that is revealed is… grisly, even for Homicide.

It's a man, naked, skin red and blistered as though scalded, body contorted horribly, back frozen with rigor mortis into a strange, disturbing arch, legs splayed, feet bent as though desperately scrabbling for purchase - as though he'd died in unimaginable agony.

His face - or what's left of it - is drawn into a silent scream, mouth twisted and gaping open. His hands stretch out towards the sky as if begging for a reprieve that obviously never came.

Dan’s stomach turns. ‘God,’ he says faintly.

Lucifer snorts from the other side of Chloe. ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ he mutters.

Dan casts him a glance hoping that Lucifer would at least look at him, but the man is staring down at the body, face dispassionate, as though untouched by the sight that has seasoned cops turning green.

Dan swallows and shifts, rubbing his eyes wearily. ‘Any ID?’

Chloe shakes her head. ‘Not yet. They'll run DNA and dental at the lab.’ Catching Dan’s look she grimaces. ‘Fingerprints were seared off.’

Yikes. ‘Cause of death?’

Chloe sighs and folds her arms, tapping her elbow in thoughtful agitation. ‘Unclear. Despite the obvious -’ she looks at the body with a tight frown, ‘-trauma, ME says it wasn't bleeding or the burns that killed him. But look.’

She crouches down, a gloved hand reaching and, with the help of two of techs, shifting the body onto its side. On the man's charred back there's a strange _hole_ , like something had punched a spike through it. Dan stares, sickly fascinated despite himself. ‘What _is_ that?’

Chloe shrugs lightly, gingerly lowering the corpse back down. ‘Not sure. ME said they'd take samples and get back to us.’

‘Right,’ says Dan frowning before setting his shoulders. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Chloe nods gratefully. ‘We've got unis canvassing the area. I'm going to head back to the precinct and look for any other similar cases while the ME finishes up. Would you mind double-checking the statement of the dog walker who called it in?’

At Dan’s nod, Chloe smiles and stands, removing her gloves. As she does she glances between Dan, hovering tense two feet away and Lucifer determinedly avoiding his eyes and nods to herself wryly. ‘Why don't you take Lucifer with you?’ she asks, eyebrows raised.

At Lucifer’s automatic protest, she crosses her arms (never a good sign Dan could have told him) and looks at him, unimpressed. ‘It'll just be a lot of paperwork and waiting with me, Lucifer. You hate paperwork,’ she says sweetly. ‘Last week I seem to remember you threatening to set off a fire alarm to - and I quote - ‘end this interminable bloody torment’.’ She raises an eyebrow at him, challengingly.

Lucifer almost whines in response. ‘Yes, fine, I admit I may have said something like that in the heat of the moment, but,’ his tone turns wheedling, ‘I'll be good this time,’ he promises. ‘I won't even set anything on fire today.’

Chloe’s brow drops. ‘What do you mean ‘today’? Actually, you know what, I don't want to know.’ She shakes her head before saying, tone slightly softer. ‘Go work with Dan, Lucifer. It'll be fine, I promise. You'll enjoy it.’

As she squeezes his arm and leaves them for her car Dan thinks he hears him mutter under his breath, ‘That’s what I'm afraid of.’


	18. Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone learns a little bit more about the bond, and the plot gets thicker.

James Snow knows nothing.

Dan sighs and shuts his notebook.

The dog walker had reported that he had been walking by with his American pit bulls ‘Macy’ and ‘Frank’ when the dogs had just gone _crazy_. Barking wildly, tugging frantically at the leash, practically foaming at the mouth in distress.

It was then that Snow, a rickety old octogenarian chess club manager, had spotted the body.

He had seen nobody at the scene. Had never met the man before and frankly he'd like to go home now Detective ‘Sinatra’.

As the man and his pitbulls walk off Lucifer snorts from beside Dan. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘What a shame we learnt nothing. How sad. I suppose I had better go rejoin the Detective at the precinct.’

Dan sighs and turns to face him, hands falling to his hips in exasperation. He looks around. They're almost alone in the park, except for the odd uni guarding the crime scene. It's as good a time to clear the air as any. ‘What's up, Lucifer?’ he says bluntly, too tired to even faff about with his wording.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows mockingly and plunges his hands into his pockets. ‘Why, Daniel, the sky. Didn't they teach you that in detective school?’

Dan snorts and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. ‘Funny,’ he says flatly before frowning at Lucifer. ‘No, seriously, Lucifer. Tell me what's going on with you.’

A moment later as Lucifer’s jaw clenches, Dan realises he'd issued an order, but by then it is too late and Lucifer is already answering. ‘The bond requires… satisfaction.’

Dan frowns, confused and immediately worried as he is whenever this thing between them rears its ugly head. ‘Satisfaction? What does that mean?’

Lucifer tenses, mouth tight. ‘It would have me behave and regard you in a certain way,’ he says vaguely, ‘and is… unhappy when I do not comply.’

Dan watches him closely. In his (unfortunately rapidly becoming extensive) experience it's never a good thing when Lucifer is evasive. ‘Why, what does it want you to do?’

Lucifer jaw clenches tight enough Dan almost expects to hear grinding and his gaze drops down to furiously regard Dan’s shoes. ‘Submit.’

Dan swallows, vastly uncomfortable. ‘Oh. That's why you keep,’ he hesitates, ‘Bringing me food and helping out. Because it's making you?’ He frowns. ‘But you didn't seem to be bothered by it at the time.’

Lucifer scowls and crosses his long arms, almost defensively. ‘That would be because the damn thing is subtle,’ he snaps. ‘I didn't even realise it was happening until you felt the need to corner me today.’

‘I didn't corner - oh, never mind,’ says Dan irritably, feeling as he always does when the bond comes up - guilty. He sighs. ‘So what's the problem? You bring me coffee or make me lunch every now and then and it'll be sorted, right?’

Lucifer glares at him furiously, eyes sharp and dangerous and Dan thinks maybe, just maybe, that was a stupid way for Dan to respond. ‘Is that an order, _Master_?’

Dan swallows. ‘No?’, he almost yelps. ‘Just a suggestion.’ He looks away, ‘Um, well how do you suggest we deal with this then?’ He looks at Lucifer full on as he lets his hands hang by his sides, trying to convey his earnestness. ‘I don’t want you doing anything you don't want to do, man, remember?’

And Lucifer's shoulders sag slightly under his expensive black suit. ‘So you keep saying. But that's the problem,’ he looks away, drumming his fingers restlessly on his elbow. ‘The bond makes me _want_ to do these things in the first place.’ He sighs, looking exhausted. ‘I'll think of something,’ he says, almost to himself.

Dan nods cautiously. ‘Okay, well let me know if there's anything I can do to help.’ He ignores Lucifer’s scoff. ‘Want to head back to the precinct and see Chloe?’

At Lucifer’s nod Dan drives them from the scene in silence.

\--

The precinct is a hive of activity. It puts Lucifer in mind of the Silver City after a grand, celestial feast or perhaps a successful battle with demonic hordes.

He sits in his customary chair by Chloe’s desk and regards the swarm around him distantly. Yes, the blue-uniformed beat cops could be cherubim (minus the hundreds of eyes and three surplus faces, of course), the Detective a Dominion (she could certainly look fearsome - and beautiful - enough) and Daniel - Daniel could be an archangel. Perhaps jovial Raphael or even Michael, with his alternating, unpredictable wrath and mercy. Lucifer’s mind immediately shies away from the thought.

Lucifer himself he supposes would be represented by the ‘perps’, lowly, despised creatures bound in chains to the will of their betters in recompense for their crimes. It is certainly apt. He snorts bitterly to himself as one such creature stumbles past him, held tight in the grip of two officers. The worm’s head hangs low and penitent, clearly broken, and Lucifer thinks perhaps this is a foreshadowing of his future.

His dark musings are interrupted by the Detective dropping into her seat with a sigh. He turns towards her and fixes a charming smile on his lips. ‘Any joy, Detective?’

Chloe rubs her eyes tiredly, almost smearing the immaculate line of her eyeliner. Her blue eyes look dimmed in thought. ‘Some,’ she says eventually. ‘Dan’s joining us for lunch and then we'll go through it.’

Lucifer gives a moue of distaste. ‘Yes, because Detective Dou- _Dan_ is sure to enjoy discussing the brutal torture of our recent victim over his disgusting BLT.’

Chloe looks up and regards him curiously. ‘You seem very sure he was tortured,’ she observes.

Lucifer blinks. ‘Well,’ he says slowly, ‘The man had clearly been put through hell - figuratively, of course.’ He leans forward, one elbow resting on the corner of her desk while the other absently rubs at his neck above the collar. ‘If there's one thing I know, Detective, it's torture.’

Chloe nods thoughtfully, her expression pensive. ‘Speaking of torture,’ she says. Lucifer perks up. ‘Always happy to,’ he declares cheerfully.

Chloe snorts and reluctantly smiles, provoking a grin from her partner who derives an inordinate amount joy from amusing her. She eyes him. ‘Are we ever going to talk about,’ she gestures between the two of them loosely, ‘Us.’

Lucifer’s grin freezes and he licks his lips, looking away. ‘What about us?’, he evades.

Chloe crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s face. ‘Exactly,’ she says, her eyebrows are raised but her tone is almost gentle.

‘You break up with me - via text, by the way. You know how I feel about text break ups.’ Lucifer winces but she continues, merciless. ‘You act like you think I'm about to bite your head off for days then apologise,’ she sighs, ‘and then you kissed me, and I thought everything was getting back to normal. But now you’re avoiding Dan, and you haven’t even tried any of your usual moves on me, even though you have to know I’d, well-’ Chloe clears her throat, ‘-be um, receptive. What is going on in your head right now?’

Lucifer looks down, avoiding her eyes. ‘You don't want to know what's in my head, Detective.’ His tone is despondent.

Chloe drops her eyes and leans towards him, eyes bright and so concerned it hurts him. She gently, as though asking permission, reaches out and presses her fingertips to the back of his hand. So achingly kind to him, when he is the last person who deserves her kindness. Or her love.

The moment her hand meets his, he feels this odd feeling of wrongness jerk at his stomach, uncomfortable and almost… he tries to push the thought away, but with every movement of her fingers on his hand it resurfaces.

 _Maybe Dan would understand_ , he suddenly thinks, and frowns at the idea. Other than being Chloe’s previous paramour, what further insight could Detective Douche offer him? He blinks twice and focuses back in on Chloe before him. 

He turns his hand under hers so can softly touch her fingers, ignoring the throbbing, uncomfortable feeling forming in his throat below the collar he desperately wants to be rid of. The collar Daniel formed for him as a sign of bondage. 

After a long, delicate moment he looks up into her wondrous eyes which are peering at his as though she can see straight through him. He's grateful she can't. Almost on a murmur she tells him, ‘Tell me what's going on, Lucifer.’

It's an order but not one he's obliged to obey. Nonetheless, even without a bond he wants to.

He hesitates then says, ‘This won't work.’ He stares away, at the desk, unable to look her in the eye, awaiting her wrath, her hate.

But she doesn’t snap. Instead her fingers tighten briefly around his before speaking softly, ‘Why not?’

He forces himself to release her hand and move away. He laughs shortly. ‘Oh so many reasons.’ He doesn’t elaborate.

Chloe allows him to escape but remains still, watching him with those far too wise eyes. ‘Won't you tell me?’ At his hesitation she presses, tone even, ‘I deserve that much, Lucifer.’

He swallows and looks at her helplessly. ‘Yes, you do. You deserve that and so much more. That's _why_ this will never work.’

For the first time she frowns and her brow wrinkles fetchingly. Stars, how is even her brow wrinkle lovely?

‘Why not? You're my friend Lucifer, my partner and I -,’ she hesitates before boldly pressing forward. ‘I love you. Despite everything, your,’ she smiles wryly, ‘Your weirdness, your inappropriateness and your -,’ she waves a hand as if to encompass him, all of him, ‘Lucifer-ness. Or maybe because of it.’ She grins almost sadly as he watches dumbstruck.

Lucifer stares hard at his hands, throat tight. ‘Because I'm not _free_ ,’ he says at last.

At Chloe’s silence he bites his lip. ‘I - if it were up to me. I'd take the few fleeting moments we’ve had, and turn them into a lifetime. I'd try to be good enough for you. Well,’ he says, self-deprecatingly, ‘I'd like to believe I would. But it's not up to me. Not any more.’

He looks up. Chloe is frowning, as if trying to parse some sense from his words. ‘Because of the bond. But Lucifer,’ she tilts her head regarding him seriously, ‘Dan would never stop you from doing anything you wanted to do, you must know that.’ She looks troubled and Lucifer's heart clenches.

‘It's not him. Detective - Dan has been most accommodating, given the circumstances.’ He hesitates. ‘But I don’t believe the spell would not accept me being - intimate with another.’

Chloe blinks and drops her voice. ‘You mean sex?’ At Lucifer’s nod, her face softens. ‘Lucifer, you know I don't expect anything from you. I would never push you into anything you're not comfortable with.’ She seems so earnest, so kind and honest that Lucifer feels unsure, unmoored. He stares at her uncomprehending. ‘You would - you would really wish to enter into a relationship with me, even knowing I may never be able to satisfy you?’

Chloe smiles slightly and shakes her head as if he's being ridiculous. ‘Not everything is about sex, Lucifer. Relationships are also about love and intimacy. About finding someone you want to be with.’

At Lucifer’s mouth opening she interjects. ‘Not all intimacy is about sex, Lucifer.’ Lucifer has his doubts about this but nods. Then he hesitates. Chloe catches it. ‘What?’

Lucifer swallows, unwilling to give voice to his greatest fears. ‘There’s more,’ he says slowly. At the Detective’s frown he reluctantly expounds on a rush. ‘I don’t want to put you in danger.’

Chloe raises her eyebrows wryly and pointedly spreads her hands to encompass the police station. ‘I'm a cop, Lucifer. I'm sorry to break it to you, but danger is a part of my life.’

Lucifer snaps, hands gripping the desk edge tightly. ‘Not like this.’ His voice is a growl and he can feel his visage slipping. He controls himself with difficulty. ‘My _family_ ,’ he snarls bitterly, ‘Has tried to kill you five times, in the last three months alone. Five times! Because of _me_. And at least one of those times-’, he laughs with a hysterical edge, ‘Was by Dad Almighty Himself. It's not _safe_ for you with me, Detective.’

He leans forward, almost pleading. ‘Please. Be reasonable. You have a child, you shouldn't place yourself in jeopardy - not for my sake.’ He looks away. ‘I put you in enough danger as it is being your partner and I know that's wrong, but I can't seem to tear myself away.’

When he looks back the Detective’s face is solemn, the lines around her mouth and eyes etched deeper than he'd ever seen them. ‘You're not responsible for your family, Lucifer,’ she says, her voice very quiet. ‘You can’t live your life constantly afraid of what they might or might not do. That's no life at all.’ She leans towards him, holding his eyes captive with hers. ‘You're right. Your family has gone after me. And that's,’ she swallows, ‘That’s awful and terrifying. But you know what else?’

She waits until she is certain she has his full attention. ‘You saved me. Each time you had my back. So I'd rather have a life with you and all the celestial assassinations with it, than a safe life without you. Please think about it.’

And with that she gently squeezes his shoulder and leaves him to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in the new year...


	19. Fallen Incorporated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! 
> 
> Y'all, get yourselves a coauthor who will spend 45 minutes digging around in a chair that definitely has smallpox to find your fitness tracker after you lose it. You can't have mine. ~ accrues

Ella Lopez looks up from where she was squinting down at her microscope and grins, tugging her earphones out of her ears.

‘Hey! If it isn't my favourite crime-fighting team!’ She winks as Chloe and Dan walk into her lab followed by the figure of Chloe’s method acting partner slash sometimes boyfriend – or is that Dan’s method acting partner slash boyfriend now? Handsome as ever with that gorgeous slim-line collar adorning his long neck.

‘How’s everything going? Still having fun?’ To her surprise he just scowls slightly and casts a cool look at the strangely shifty looking Dan. Huh, trouble in paradise? 

Chloe crosses her arms but smiles a little tensely. She's a tough one to crack, that one, but Ella can tell she's warming up to her. Demolishing a tiki bar as a part of an impromptu girl tribe turned out to be great for bonding. Who knew.

‘Hey, Ella, what have you got?’

‘Straight to business as usual, huh? Great, great. You're going to love this! It's really freaky.’ Ella grins and looks at them expectantly.

Belatedly she registers the weird energy in the room and slowly looks between her friends. Chloe seems sad and a little on edge and as Ella takes her in, her eyeliner a bit smeared and her eyes slightly red as if she'd been crying. Dan looks highly uncomfortable, like after he'd been after he found out that chick he'd hot sexy bonobo fun times with had turned out to be a man-eating shark lady and Lucifer-

Lucifer is standing in the corner of her lab looking like if it was up to him he'd be just about anywhere else. Ella frowns in concern and sets her microscope slide down.

‘Hey, you guys look awful! What happened? LA Angels lose again? Someone die? Well,’ she amends with a chuckle, ‘Someone else.’

Dan clears his throat. ‘We're all good. What did you find?’

Ella narrows her eyes at him suspiciously but decides to roll with it for now. ‘Okay, if you say so. Well,’ she brightens are she thinks of her discovery.

‘It's _really_ weird. So you found that guy with the giant hole in his back, right? According to dental he's a Richard Dalkin from Anaheim. 45, banker, lived alone. Went missing five months ago.’

Chloe nods in surprise. ‘Five _months_. Wow, that's a long time to be off the grid.’ She clears her throat. ‘Did the ME come back with a cause of death yet?’

Ella nods and taps the report meaningfully, eyebrows raised. ‘Yep. And here I present weirdness part one. So you were thinking your dead dude died of his burns or internal injuries, right? Because he looked like someone had worked him over pretty good?’

Chloe nods frowning. ‘The ME said it wasn't the burns or bleeding.’

‘Yeah,’ says Ella brightly. ‘Because he died of a heart attack.’

Chloe blinks while to her left Dan puts his hands palm on her table and leans in. ‘What, so natural causes? That can't be right.’

Chloe nods thoughtfully to him. ‘The torture must have caused the heart attack. All those burns.’

‘Or whatever got him in the back shocked him into one,’ says Dan bluntly. ‘What was it anyway, a spear or a javelin or something?’ Dan is frowning, as though puzzled and slightly disgusted.

Ella smiles wryly, tapping the slide. ‘And there's fun freaky part two. Toxicology came back and guess what it found?’

Chloe looks at her, unimpressed. Dan frowns and Lucifer just looks vaguely bored. Ella’s face falls. ‘Okay, no guessing, I get it. Turns out this guy was poisoned.’

She pauses for dramatic effect as her audience shifts, interested now despite themselves. ‘By a _scorpion_.’

Chloe blinks. ‘What like a scorpion stung him while was being held and tortured?’

Ella shakes her head, becoming more serious. ‘No, that's the really weird bit. That hole in his back had traces of neurotoxin matching the scorpion venom. It's almost like a scorpion hit him in the back and killed him.’

Dan shakes his head incredulously. ‘Are you joking? That hole’s huge! There's no way a scorpion did that.’

Chloe nods looking incredibly disturbed. ‘The killer must have put the toxin on something large, like a pike or something, and stabbed him with it.’

Ella shrugs. ‘Yeah, that's what we figured too, though,’ she frowns, ‘We haven't found any wood or metal in the wound yet, so however they did it they were careful.’

‘Great,’ says Chloe. ‘A careful killer. My favourite.’

She turns to Lucifer as if to share a smile only to find him standing looking incredibly pale. ‘Lucifer?’

Lucifer’s head jerks up and he stares at them unseeingly before blurting, ‘I have to go,’ and all but fleeing the lab.

There’s a puzzled beat of silence before Ella ventures, ‘Huh. I never knew he was scared of scorpions.’

\--

Chloe hangs up the phone with a sigh. No joy on Dalkin’s friends and acquaintances who seem to have no idea why he suddenly disappeared out of the blue five long months ago - or who would want to hurt him enough to hold and torture him brutally into a heart attack.

She pinches her forehead tightly. After Lucifer had weirdly fled the lab Dan and she had gone through the rest of the case with a fine toothed comb, looking for any clues, but Ella had been right. Their killer had been careful. There had been no fingerprints - footprints either come to that. Nothing caught on any traffic cameras, despite the park being adjacent to a busy road.

It was like the killer was invisible.

All they have is the scorpion venom (which still, _seriously_ ) and a single lock of dark hair. Long like a woman's. Initially Chloe had been hopeful but there was no match on the system so for now it's just another dead end. The only angle they have left is the venom, which Dan is chasing up with suppliers to check for any recent suspicious purchases.

And Lucifer. Lucifer had disappeared back to Lux, presumably, with just a text to her saying he needed to see a man about an insect. Whatever that meant.

Chloe sighs. After their - intense - conversation earlier maybe it isn't so surprising he'd bailed. She practically had. After she spoke with him she'd gone to the bathroom and sat down and quietly cried for five minutes, feeling overwhelmed and deeply, deeply sad.

It isn't fair. None of this is, not to her, not to Dan and not to Lucifer.

Over the past fortnight Chloe had had to come to terms with not only the fact that God had _specifically_ created her, as what, a horrible trap or lure for his kid, but also that then he'd tried to _kill_ her to hurt said kid. She can still barely comprehend it.

His kid. Her partner. The Devil. The guy who loves her and whom Chloe had, apparently when she hadn't been paying attention, been quietly imagining something of a future with.

The guy who'd been willing to give up everything, his life, his freedom, _them_ , to save her life.

What do you even say to that? Thank you? Here's a fruit basket? They don't make Hallmark cards for this sort of situation.

And then there were his confessions today. The way the bond controls him despite his and Dan's best efforts. It's all so profoundly messed up.

But Chloe hopes she had got her thoughts and feelings across to him. That he's willing to take the same risk she is.

Chloe knows she deserves happiness and hopes that - if she keeps reminding him - he'll one day understand he does too.

-

‘Are you _insane_?’

Lucifer brushes off his mother’s high-pitched exclamation effortlessly.

‘No more so than I have been for the past ten billion years,’ he quips.

The Goddess of All Creation, retired (well, _sacked_ , but who's counting), stands in the middle of his penthouse, arms akimbo and expression aghast. 

Behind her, Amenadiel sits on Lucifer’s loveseat, arms crossed and face looking somewhere between his usual dull brooding and constipated. Mazikeen, dressed in her habit of skintight black leather is on the other side of the bar, body far too tense to pass for her usual lounging.

Lucifer surveys the room in disdain. It's infinitely neater than it had been a week ago after his little _outburst_ , but it is going be a devil to replace his stock of alcohol again and his poor piano is still in for repairs, leaving the room feeling rather empty.

Perhaps he should go motivate that old restorer. Only, he thinks bitterly, it would have to be cold hard cash (boring) or old fashioned violence (less boring but ugh, effort) as he doubts the bond would take kindly to him offering his body in trade even if he wanted to. Lucifer heaves a deep sigh as he sloshes some amber restora _tive_ into a tumbler and takes a bracing gulp as his mother's screeches assault his ears.

‘Of all the _stupid_ , _thoughtless_ choices, Lucifer! How could you be so foolish? How could play right into your father's plans?’ She rants from behind him, while Lucifer hunches slightly over his drink. Honestly. As though her wrathful posturing has _any_ effect on Lucifer now that she’s trapped inside the weak (and disturbingly hot) body of a human woman. Ridiculous. As if anything his mother has to say to could affect him in the slightest.

‘I thought I raised you better than this.’

Lucifer swivels around in his seat and glares at her. ‘Raised me-?!’ He barks, before taking a deep breath (as dear Doctor Linda suggested - something about ‘dysfunctional familial dynamics’ and ‘mindfulness’ and ‘Lucifer please I'm running out of walls for you to punch’) and forcing a smile to his face.

‘As much as I would _love_ to go over how you _raised me_ , Mum. We've got bigger issues.’

His dear old mum stares at him, agape. It's a thankfully unflattering look on her. ‘Big-? Lucifer, you cast a _binding enchantment_ on yourself! One you can never escape. _Why_ in the name of your Father and all the heavens would you _do_ something like that?’

At Lucifer’s silence, Maze speaks up, voice sharp. ‘For Chloe.’

At this Mum scoffs loudly. ‘You did this- this _abomination_ to yourself because we wouldn't help you?’

Lucifer snarls. ‘ _Couldn't_ help me, as I recall. Unless there's anything you'd like to tell me?’

His mother stares at him, face softening. ‘Lucifer, if there was any way your brother or I could have helped, you know we would have. But not this. Never this.’ She shakes her head in disbelief, her blue eyes wide.

Lucifer abruptly slams his fist down on the bar, eyes flashing crimson. ‘ _I don’t want to talk about it_.’

The room falls briefly, mercifully, silent before Mum figuratively deflates, face concerned. She slowly crosses the floor to make her way to him, hands lifting to frame his cheek. Lucifer turns away, throat ridiculously tight for some reason and after a moment her hand falls away sadly.

‘Oh Lucifer,’ she murmurs, ‘I’m sorry. We’re just concerned about you.’ She searches his eyes. ‘And you know why, don't you?’

Lucifer swallows, rage swirling away into a heavy sensation of despair. Frankly, he prefers the rage. ‘I had no choice, Mum.’

His mother nods, eyes so horribly soft and kind. ‘Because you love her. Because you're the good, kind-hearted boy you always were, my beautiful Lightbringer.’

She smiles gently at him, eyes large and earnest and Lucifer softens. Faced with her warmth and love he feels for a moment as though he is transported millennia in the past, as though she is once again the mother he had adored and he her favoured son and he sways closer to her. Then distantly he hears Maze snort to the side of them and Lucifer draws back with a start. 

Mum watches him go, face sympathetic. ‘I'm so sorry, Lucifer,’ she says gently. She looks away, jaw tight. ‘I blame your father for this.’ She laughs bitterly, a seeming echo of his own pain and fear. ‘He must be so pleased at his triumph over you, my son. Your father always did have a cruel streak, especially when it came to you.’

Lucifer flinches. ‘I recall,’ he says hoarsely. 

After a moment he takes a deep breath and rallies. ‘But that isn't why I called you all here.’

‘Yes, yes, you said,’ says his mother. ‘Something about locusts?’

Lucifer stands and starts pacing. ‘Not just locusts, Mother. _Locusts_.’

His mother and brother stare at him blankly as though he'd grown (yet) another head but Maze chokes on her whiskey gratifyingly. ‘Wait, are you serious? The Locusts are here?’

Lucifer points to her. ‘Yes, thank you,’ he says emphatically. ‘ _That's_ the reaction I was aiming for.’

Amenadiel still looks blank (typical), but his mother suddenly blinks, seeming to finally grasp the gravity of the situation. ‘Oh dear.’

Or not.

Lucifer sighs, put upon, and turns to his sadly slow brother. ‘The Locusts, Amenadiel,’ he repeats slowly. ‘As in the demonic monstrosities, half giant bloody locust, half man and half scorpion - and yes, I'm aware that's too many bloody halves,’ he snaps preemptively.

A look of horror dawns with a depressing lack of speed on Amenadiel’s much plainer features.

‘Tell me you're joking.’

Lucifer shrugs. ‘Would that I could, bro, but there it is.’

Amenadiel leans forward urgently, thankfully stopping just shy of grabbing Lucifer’s black shirt. ‘ _How did they get out_? Have you seen them? Do you know where they are?’

Lucifer steps back irritably. ‘Don’t know, not exactly and no bloody idea.’

As Amenadiel seizes his arm, Lucifer snaps, ‘Hands off the merchandise!’ only to be ignored. Bloody brothers. 

‘What do you mean ‘not exactly’? Are you even sure it's them?’ Amenadiel’s eyes are fixed on Lucifer, who sighs.

‘The Detective - _Detectives_ \- are investigating. A human held and tormented for five months, stung in the back by a giant scorpion stinger, and a banker to boot. There’s no way that's a coincidence.’

Amenadiel finally blessedly releases him and frowns. ‘What's him being a banker got to do with it?’

Lucifer gives him a mock toast before draining his drink. ‘Well, come on. We all know for a fact he won't have the Seal of Dad on his forehead, will he.’

Maze snorts, angular features tense and suspicious. ‘Why’d he die though? Not that I'm complaining, but isn't the whole point to keep them living, kicking and screaming? Not much point tormenting them if you're just going to let them escape into death. Amateurs.’

Lucifer nods. Finally, someone asking the real questions. ‘My thoughts exactly, Maze. I'm not sure - Miss Lopez said it was a heart attack. Maybe he died by accident?’

Maze snorts disdainfully, taking a drink from her glass and muttering. ‘Figures, humans are a weak bunch.’

Lucifer disregards this. ‘What's the plan?’ He asks the room hopefully.

There is a long beat of silence.

‘Well, don't all speak up at once,’ he says sarcastically.

‘What can we do?’ Amenadiel sinks into the abandoned loveseat looking despondent.

Lucifer glares down at him. ‘Well, aren't you a great fat lot of use,’ he tells him snidely.

Amenadiel looks up at him with a frown. ‘Luci, what do you expect me to say? This is bad. End of Times, bad.’

Lucifer shifts nervously. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he says uneasily. ‘That’s not meant to be for another few years yet. Some moron probably let them out by accident.’

Lucifer does his best to ignore the skeptical looks he's gifted with by his brother and mother.

Behind him Maze slams her glass down on the bar hard enough to fracture it. ‘Well, I say we go hunt them down and kill them. We've got that Knife. Let's exterminate the lot of them.’

Lucifer and Amenadiel look at her warily while Mum snorts disdainfully.

‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it, Mazikeen?’ she says silkily, towering over Maze.

Maze glares back at her unabashed. ‘Yes, because it _works_.’ She looks away and mutters loudly. ‘Wish I'd done it to you.’

Mum smiles icily. ‘Why you little-’

‘Sorry, my little devil, no can do.’ Lucifer hastily interjects.

Maze frowns at him. ‘Why not?’ She asks with just a hint of a plaintive whine.

Lucifer looks away. ‘Because they were our brothers.’

Maze manages to look simultaneously horrified and disgusted. ‘ _Those things_?’

‘Were once cherubim, yes,’ Lucifer says irritably. ‘Before they Fell. And there's been enough killing with that bloody Blade as it is. I won't be party to more.’

Maze is undeterred. ‘So don't. Give me the knife and I'll do it for you.’

She catches the looks on Lucifer and Amenadiel’s face and snorts, pouring a fresh drink. ‘What,’ she says flatly, ‘They aren't _my_ brothers.’

Mum’s eyes flash with something dark and wrathful at this. ‘If you think for one moment, _demon_ , that I would let you harm _my_ children -’

‘She won't,’ interjects Lucifer sharply, quickly moving between the two.

Mum eyes him before huffing with frustration and looks away. ‘I don’t see the problem anyway.’ She complains. ‘So what if they torment a few humans. What does it matter?’

Lucifer scowls at the pair of them. ‘There will be no killing,’ he dictates. ‘Or tormenting,’ he adds. ‘The Detectives and I will get to the bottom of this and then the four of us will find a way to seal them back into Hell.’

He snorts bitterly. ‘So thank you for your spectacular lack of help. I suppose I'll take it from here.’

He’s grabbing his leather jacket and turning his back on his disgustingly useless family and demon, heading towards the lift doors when his mother snorts and says, voice needle sharp. ‘Yes, I suppose you do need to run back to your Master.’

Lucifer freezes, arm half tangled in the arm of his jacket. Slowly, he turns to face her, struck dumb.

His mum is regarding him with a jaded look on her lovely human face before immediately thawing in the face of his pain. ‘Oh, I'm sorry, Lucifer,’ she apologises. ‘I didn't mean to say that. I'm just so upset about what your father did.’

She shakes her head once, regretfully, before drawing slowly closer, like a lioness to her cubs. Or prey.

Lucifer swallows, distantly aware of Maze frowning between them as Mum gently, oh so gently, helps him straighten his jacket.

Long blood red fingernails trail along his collar, before reaching up to lightly caress his cheek as Lucifer stares down at her, eyes wide, still bright with unwilling hurt. 

‘I promise, Lucifer,’ she says softly to him, voice reverberating between them like a vow or a curse. ‘Your father will pay for this. For what he has done to you.’

She smiles unblinking as she strokes his cheek, Lucifer frozen under her piercing gaze. ‘My boy. My beautiful, wilful boy.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erya would like to leave you with the image of Luci and Dan wearing pencil skirts doing filthy things to each other while Chloe oversees wearing a pantsuit and does policework at a desk. You didn't think this was your pairing? IT IS NOW.
> 
> (Addit: Blame accrues. I know I do. :P - Erya)


	20. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer has an idea. Dan is not so on board.

It's late when Lucifer, clad in black leather and jeans, arrives at Dan's sad little shoebox of a home.  
He knocks and peers through the peephole, almost hoping the man isn't home.

Several (normally very diverting) thoughts about _holes_ , ‘peep’ or otherwise, cross his mind, but he sighs, feeling frustratingly quite undiverted.

The… ‘ _altercation_ ’, shall we say, with dear old Mum seems to dwelling on his mind today, tugging at his thoughts almost as persistently as he grimly fancies the bond does. His mood darkens, a frown curling his lips downward and he is is on the brink of turning away when - unfortunately - the drab little door snicks open revealing the equally drab, tired figure of Dan Espinoza.

The man, dressed in one of his seemingly infinite supply of ugly shirts paired with a pair of tattered jeans, seems surprised. Probably at even receiving a visitor, Lucifer thinks unkindly, as Dan just stands there blinking at him like a stunted owl.

‘Lucifer,’ he says eventually, voice rising in confusion as he leans with exaggerated casualness against his own door frame. ‘Hey, uh, what are you doing here?’

Lucifer grits his teeth. Thoughts dark as they are, he feels almost as the bloody bond compels him to answer. In recent weeks, he has, from time to time, fancied he could feel the insidious _thing_ , nagging at his thoughts, trying to control his very own desires. It always seems more overwhelming, more omnipresent in Daniel’s company, he thinks bitterly - rearing its head as though in response to the man’s voice or his stupid gormless smile.

It’s almost enough to make Lucifer want to punch Daniel again in his misshapen nose - if he thought the bond would let him get away with it.

Today the shadow on his mind feels more oppressive than ever and Lucifer thinks he knows why.

‘May I come in?’ he asks stiffly, hoping rather futilely to be turned away. Surely the damn spell can't blame him if his so-called Master wants naught to do with him?

But Daniel, ever the contrary little git, nods cautiously and steps aside. ‘Yeah. Yeah, man, of course.’

Typical.

Lucifer mutters a short thanks and strides in. Disregarding the usual banal clutter - or Daniel’s aborted, awkwardly clandestine attempts to tidy the place while he thinks Lucifer’s back is turned - he makes a beeline for the living room he recalls from their movie nights months ago.

Only months, he reflects with a bittersweet pang. It seems longer.

Once he reaches the ‘couch’ he sets his jaw, determined in an nearly masochistic manner, and, without sparing a glance at the (forever, perpetually) confused Dan, sinks to his knees.

The moment his knees hit carpet, Lucifer feels something _release_ , a wave of something warm and indescribable sweeping over him, causing him to half gasp in relief. It feels almost like that beat at the end of a scene with an obliging dom - that brief, euphoric moment of deceptive, dizzying freedom. Painful and simultaneously glorious; like cutting off one’s wings.

The bond unclamping its iron grip on his mind, no doubt.

Some of this must be visible on his face because Dan starts towards him in obvious concern. He moves to crouch down as though to help Lucifer up and Lucifer reflexively snaps. ‘No’.

A pulse of discomfort, like shame, comes over him and hoarsely he adds, ‘please’. He breathes deeply for a moment as Dan stays frozen above him.

‘Please,’ he repeats more evenly, ‘it's preferable if you remain standing.’

Dan slowly rises again, looking hopelessly lost. Lucifer very nearly feels sorry for him. The man hesitates, plainly uncomfortable with their respective positions, him standing and Lucifer on his knees on the grungy carpet. Eventually he says uneasily, ‘Lucifer, is this, uh, bond stuff?’

Lucifer can’t help it, he really can’t; he snorts. ‘Oh no,’ he says dryly. ‘No, I just fancied dropping to my knees for you,’ before rolling his eyes so violently it nearly hurts. ‘Of course it's this bloody ‘bond stuff,’ he snaps in a mimicry in Dan’s flat All-American atrocity of an accent.

Dan is still shifting awkwardly on his feet, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable - too much so, apparently, to even take offense at Lucifer’s jibe - and Lucifer grudgingly takes pity on him. ‘I found a way around the,’ he pauses, ‘unpleasant ‘helpfulness’ at the office,’ he elucidates.

‘Oh?’ says Dan cautiously, looking as wary as he might if presented with an unlabeled parcel at the precinct.

‘Yes,’ replies Lucifer, voice tightly controlled. ‘It appears the choice may lie between passive subconscious submission in public or an act of active submission in private.’ He pauses. ‘I know which I prefer.’ He says heavily.

At Dan’s poor confused little face, Lucifer sighs and explains. ‘I prefer this,’ he waves an angry hand to indicate _knees_ and _grungy carpet_ , ‘to letting this damn bond push and pull me about at your work like a blasted marionette. At least this way I maintain control of my faculties.’ _For as long as I'm able_ , he thinks darkly.

‘I hope,’ he says flatly, trying for neutrality and probably just reaching angry, ‘that you find this acceptable?’

His Master would, of course, be well within his rights to compel any form of submission he so wishes, be it in public or behind closed doors, no matter how vile, humiliating or degrading, but Lucifer is beginning to slowly, tentatively accept that Dan would quite happily accept whichever necessary evil is _kindest_ for Lucifer. Because he might just be a decent person. Even a good one. Possibly.  
Not that Lucifer ever plans on telling him that.

Dan nods helplessly, completely unaware of Lucifer’s dark musings. ‘Whatever you want, Lucifer,’ he says earnestly.

The man really needs to stop making blanket statements, Lucifer thinks, almost wonderingly. He feels a mix of emotions in that moment, that he finds he cannot quite define - slightly sad but with a hint of something he could not name if asked, something that feels big and warm, that pulls deep down in his chest and causes his throat to ache. Probably indigestion.

‘Thank you,’ he says at last, quietly.

Dan nods, one hand flapping awkwardly in the periphery of Lucifer’s gaze. ‘You’re welcome,’ he says.

There’s a beat of silence filled only by their breathing and that weird feeling in Lucifer’s chest and throat.

Dan eventually breaks the silence by clearing his own throat. Perhaps the throat thing is contagious, Lucifer ponders. He makes a note to ask Doctor Linda about it later; her medical expertise might yet again come in handy.

‘I, uh, don’t particularly want to stand here though, for, well, however long this takes,’ Dan stutters. ‘You mind if I get a bite and we put on a movie or something?’

Lucifer almost smiles and whatever tension there seemed to be in the room between them dissipates into thin air. ‘You _really_ don't need to ask my permission, you know,’ he points out sardonically, ‘but why not.’

Dan grins in relief. ‘Good. But hey,’ he scratches his neck awkwardly. ‘Do you have to, um, _kneel_? I mean, the average movie is more than an hour and uh,’ he swallows. ‘Also, it’s kinda... weird.’

Lucifer gives him the most disparaging look he can muster (which he prides himself on being impressively disparaging). ‘What would you prefer?’ He asks silkily, voice dangerous and rich with a note of challenge. ‘I could lie prostrate at your feet.’

‘No!’ Dan’s voice - and face - is hysterical and Lucifer suppresses a grin. ‘No, um, look.’ Dan bites at his lip distractingly, making the surrounding flesh blanch briefly white, oblivious to Lucifer’s eyes absently dropping to regard it. ‘Can you just sit? Jesus, this is weird.’

Lucifer considers the prospect and benevolently ignores the blasphemy. ‘That would be acceptable, I believe,’ he eventually decides. However, he feels concerned that this sense of relief - the whole point of this ridiculous, humiliating exercise - might well vanish if things returned back their usual bromancical ‘camaraderie’. He frowns. ‘Perhaps if you ordered it,’ he adds.

‘Is…’ Dan seems to be growing increasingly uncomfortable, which Lucifer finds somewhat bizarre – it’s not like he’s the one on the ground grovelling at his master’s feet, is it? Ridiculous douche. ‘Is that what you _want_?’

Lucifer very nearly laughs in his face (or well, in his _thighs_ at this angle) but seeing the look of concern painted on Dan’s face, sighs and dutifully considers the question. He thinks of all the things he _wants_ instead of being on his knees in front a human he’s bound himself to for all of eternity. It’s a depressingly short list, mostly comprising of the Detective and alcohol with a healthy dose of vengeance on his _Heavenly Dad Who Art in the Silver City_ , but aside from that, if it is a matter of passive subconscious submission in public and active submission in private, he knows what he prefers. He always wants to make his choice, even as profoundly limited as his choices now are. Perhaps even _especially_ with them as profoundly limited as they now are.

He nods shortly. ‘Yes. If that even matters to you,’ he bites out.

He wonders if maybe - just maybe - that had been a bit unfair, but Dan just nods and says, firmly, ‘it does, yeah.’

He regards Lucifer for a moment, jaw tight. ‘Okay, uh. Sit down, Lucifer.’ He pauses to watch as the order takes effect and Lucifer resettles his limbs obediently.

Lucifer is very conscious of the feeling of relief following the order offers, surprisingly even above the release kneeling had granted him. Must be the act of actually following an order, he thinks distantly, as the warmth settles into his very bones. As he sits cross legged on the ground, soles of his oxfords digging into the meat of his calves, he allows himself to bask, just for a moment, in that blessed relief.

Then Dan ruins it. ‘Unless you need to uh, get up.’ He hovers awkwardly above Lucifer, sounding, as ever, thoroughly un-Masterly. ‘In which case, you know, do your thing,’ he finishes weakly.

Lucifer snorts, shaking his head. He doesn’t _need_ to get up at the present moment, so his limbs won’t allow him to stand even if he tried. He doesn’t try. He wonders distantly if that means he’s already lost something of himself.

‘Is that okay?’

Lucifer glances up at Dan, who’s still dithering at his side. From the unease on his face and gawky way he’s uncomfortably hunched to attend to Lucifer’s needs, anyone would think he was the slave.

‘It’s serviceable,’ Lucifer allows and feels a reluctant pulse of affection for the - occasionally endearing - douche. ‘We really need to get you some kind of how-to guide to ownership,’ he mutters under his breath.

‘What was that?’ Dan asks absently, turning away from Lucifer to flick through a pile of DVDs.  
Lucifer rolls his eyes and goes to repeat himself only for Dan to interrupt with a sudden subdued but surprisingly boyish grin. ‘Hey, you wanna watch one of the Body Bags films? We never did get around to it.’

Lucifer blinks and finds himself brightening. He actually does, if only to take his mind off the bond and the bloody flipping Locusts. ‘Yes, that sounds… good.’

Dan grins again. ‘Great! Hang on, I'll just grab us some snacks,’ and with that and an absent squeeze of Lucifer’s shoulder he wanders off to the kitchen.

Lucifer’s shoulder feels warm for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys.


	21. À la Carte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lucifer and Dan enjoy the relative normalcy of a movie night, the bond rears its head once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *accrues prises chapter away from Erya*. 
> 
> Rewrites:  
> accrues: ERYA NO  
> Erya: ERYA YES
> 
> NOTE: As always, this story is designed to stand alone from _The Silent Ten Year War_ , however some of Lucifer's history is entwined with that story, so this fic (or a chapter like this in particular) has a different effect if you have read that story. Warnings for vague flashbacks to some dark shit. This is linked to food, so if you have food triggers, be aware.

They're half an hour into the film and Lucifer is entranced. He’s watching with glee as Wesley Cabot blows a hole through a dam in North Korea flooding a base full of evil militants when his stomach rumbles.

He winces. How embarrassing, but he supposes hardly surprising given he hadn't eaten since early that morning, preoccupied as he was with first the bond and then his blasted mother.

He feels Dan's leg shift from where it's been pleasantly pressing against his spine and the DVD is paused.

‘Hey,’ says Dan, voice low and warm and a little cautious. ‘Hungry?’

Lucifer shifts slightly before answering shortly. ‘A little.’ His stomach chooses that moment to rumble a bit louder, the filthy rebel.

He feels Dan shift behind him on the sofa, before the scent of reheated pepperoni pizza drifts closer. It smells delicious. Dan had offered him sustenance before the film when he had gorged himself but Lucifer had quickly declined _for exactly this reason_.

‘Want some?’ offers Dan, oblivious. ‘I can reheat the rest, if you want.’

Lucifer scowls down at his crossed legs. His damn belly - and the blasted bond, no doubt - tugs at him to accept but the hell if he does. ‘No, thank you,’ he says stiffly.

Dan snorts behind him. ‘What? I know you're a food snob Lucifer, but seriously? You sound hungry. Just eat it.’

Lucifer flinches and swallows. Something in his throat locks, probably the bond urging him to obey, deep beneath the collar. And for a brief moment Lucifer _remembers_ \- the taste of figs and pomegranate seeds like ash on the back of his tongue, the heavy weight of defeat and shame twisting inside sharp as a knife to the back, a red-lipped smirk and endless, brutal _submission_. Then the bond tugs, pulling him back to the present and he turns blindly to face his bloody _Master_. He glares up at him from between the man's spread thighs, as resentful as ever to be in this position.

‘If you insist,’ he says tightly. His eyes drop to the plate resting in Dan's lap and waits, bitterly obedient.

But Dan is staring down at him in confusion. He hesitantly passes the plate to Lucifer who, startled, accepts it.

Lucifer flicks his gaze between the plate and Dan's face before cursing himself. Of _course_ Daniel meant for Lucifer to feed himself, no matter what the damn enchantment whispers to him. He quickly tries to turn back to the television to hide his face and flush he can feel rising on his cheeks and neck.

Unfortunately for him, Dan happens to be a detective by profession and also slightly less dim than he first appears. ‘Hey,’ he says, a frown in his voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

_Bloody man and his bloody questions_ , thinks Lucifer uncharitably, ignoring the uneasiness he assumes is from the bond. Can't he leave well enough alone?

Lucifer settles back into his cross-legged position and says shortly, ‘I was anticipating another means of eating.’ There, that's vague enough isn't it. But he feels the man start behind him.

‘Wait, you thought I was going to what, feed you?’

Lucifer hunches his shoulders, expecting laughter and mockery. He can feel the back of his neck above the damned collar burning in shame.

But Dan is quiet for a moment. ‘Sorry.’

Lucifer blinks, confused, still clutching onto the damn plate. Dan continues, voice soft. ‘I screwed up and ordered you again. I didn't mean to do that, man.’ He sounds wry but also genuinely apologetic and a part of Lucifer relaxes.

The man is silent for a moment longer and Lucifer wishes he'd turn the blasted film back on. ‘I- You should know I won't do anything you're not comfortable or at least okay with, Lucifer. And,’ he says hoarsely, ‘I'm pretty sure you weren't okay with the idea of me... helping you eat.’

Lucifer hesitates but after a moment nods, hoping to convey his forgiveness without having to actually say it.

He feels Dan’s leg relax slightly behind him and the movie blessedly resumes. After a moment Lucifer hesitantly takes the remaining piece of half-cold pizza and nearly chokes.

Dan snorts. ‘Want me to heat some up now?’

Lucifer scowls but with a muttered ‘yes, please’ proffers the empty plate back to the amused douche.

-

Three hours and two movies later Lucifer feels almost boneless, he's so relaxed. His back keeps slumping and pressing against Dan's leg when he loses his concentration but Dan doesn’t seem to mind. He just reaches forward and squeezes Lucifer’s shoulders.

He keeps offering the bemused Lucifer breaks to stand and stretch his legs - which Lucifer refuses; he's no weakling, his hips and backside are completely bloody fine and not aching at all - and at one point he even fetches a blanket which he curls around Lucifer’s form.

Lucifer thinks distantly that he can't remember the last time he felt so warm or… loved.

It must have been a long time ago, maybe way back before he even Fell, though he knows a quick hug from Chloe certainly can easily rival the sensation.

The closest he can recall otherwise is a particular good romp between the sheets with at least three other people (preferably more) in that wonderful restful beat afterwards where he could just lie nestled warmly in between his partners and bask in their affection and satiation. It used to remind him, just a little, of Heaven before everything went pear-shaped.

Lucifer blinks sleepily. He hasn't thought so much of the days Before for years. It must be the bloody fatigue. Ever since the bond his sleep has been interrupted at best and downright horrendous at worst. He keeps waking up wildly to the sensation of Falling, forever and ever into the Abyss. Of Michael's face as he watched, dispassionate and uncaring.

He wonders if he should ask the good doctor about these dreams but he suspects she might feed him some line about ‘trust issues’ and ‘fearing betrayal’ again. What rot. Lucifer doesn't have trust issues. He has a very legitimate, very realistically, well-founded comprehension that people - and especially angels - are dicks and that if they possess the power to hurt you, they will. That's not a trust issue. It's bloody realism.

Nonetheless, he thinks leaning back against Dan's leg, his head lolling slightly, he is ridiculously comfortable at this moment. He feels he can just doze off…

A touch to the side of his head startles him awake and he jerks in place, nearly toppling. He hears a chuckle and feels warm hands on his arms gently righting him and he stiffens before he remembers where he is and with whom.

Dan chuckles low and deep behind him and pats his shoulder. ‘Okay, I think you're just about ready for bed now.’

Lucifer freezes, suddenly completely awake. He swallows. ‘Am I?’ he stalls.

Dan snorts. ‘Given you're all but falling asleep where you sit, I think so,’ he says dryly.

Lucifer winces. ‘I'm awake,’ he says quickly. He feels anxious and ill at ease. It may be the bond or the evening spent in submission on the floor but he has a feeling where this may be going and, for once, in this moment, it is somewhere he finds himself unwilling to explore. 

‘Sure you are,’ drawls Dan, the bastard.

‘Come on, up you get, buddy. Let’s go to bed,’ Dan stands himself, arm gently supporting Lucifer as he stumbles wearily to his feet. His hips ache ferociously and he sways in place, exhausted. He feels shaken and almost frightened, even though he knows he's done this dance literally thousands of times before.

He studiously avoids his Master’s eyes. Once he's standing in the middle of the room, Dan rubs Lucifer’s upper arm absently. ‘Hang on, I'll fetch you some clothes.’

Lucifer doesn't see why he bothers, but who knows what strange kinks some humans entertain.

Something in his face seems to arrest the douche, because Dan stops, hand still lingering on Lucifer’s bare arm. 

At some point in the night, layers had come of and without his blanket or his jacket Lucifer stands shivering in his jeans and thin shirt. His skin tingles under Daniel’s warm fingers and equally warm gaze. 

‘Hey, what’s up? Lucifer?’ 

It isn’t an order, not for a long while since Dan had taken the power away from his own words, but nevertheless Lucifer feels compelled to answer. ‘I just-’ whether it is the tiredness and the heaviness in his heart and the deep unwavering regard of Dan’s gaze, he doesn’t know, but Lucifer, he of the silver tongue, feels uncharacteristically tongue-tied. ‘I... can we not?’

It comes out more of a plea than Lucifer meant to express and the words hang uncomfortably in the air between them like lost souls. 

Dan stares at him, brow folded in consternation and Lucifer feels too heavy and damned to even mock him for his slow wit. 

‘Not what?’ asks Dan eventually, grey eyes perplexed. ‘Not go to bed? But...?’

‘Yes,’ Lucifer interjects sharply and with an unexpected burst of pain. In the dimmed grey lights of Daniel’s living room everything feels unreal and out-of-sync. Their banter, their usual repartee and lightness all but deserting them.

Lucifer feels off-kilter, like everything is tenuous, uncertain, that one wrong word might ruin things forever, might destroy this delicate balance of power they’ve eked out between themselves and leave him broken and bleeding and _subservient_ , a thing at his Master’s mercy.

But Dan just keeps frowning, eyes, ever that curiously light grey searching Lucifer’s face as though for meaning. 

‘I don’t understand, why don’t you want to go to-’. Abruptly, he stills and understanding dawns across his features slowly in a way that any other time would have made Lucifer laugh. 

His mouth drops open in a gawp and his hand drops from Lucifer’s arm as he steps back with almost comical speed. 

‘ _Oh_. Oh. I, um, I didn’t, I wasn’t- Lucifer!’ 

His hands flail in mid air, his eyes wide, like he had been struck in the face by a very large fish, and suddenly something unclenches in Lucifer’s stomach and he exhales in deep rush. 

Dan is still talking, gesticulating wildly. ‘I didn’t- when I said go to bed, Lucifer, I meant ‘go to bed’. You know, as in ‘go to bed’, not ‘ _go to bed_ ’!’ his voice drops into a dramatic whisper as though nervous someone might overhear, and Lucifer feels something rise in his chest. 

A moment later he is laughing as Dan hovers in front of him, face flushed with embarrassment. 

‘Oh yeah, oh yeah, laugh it up,’ he says as Lucifer cackles. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m an idiot.’ Despite his annoyance, he’s half smiling, arms crossed. 

Lucifer controls his chuckles and does his best to ignore his sense of relief and his own creeping sense of embarrassment. 

Although smiling ruefully, Dan’s eyes seem troubled as Lucifer’s laughter dies off. 

‘Hey,’ he says at last. ‘Can I ask- what was that about?’ 

Apparently that uncomfortable thing in Lucifer’s throat has decided to make a reappearance. He really does need to discuss it with Doctor Linda. To disguise his discomfort, he steps away from Dan and grabs his jacket off the sofa, glad to turn his back to Dan’s far too penetrating (ha) gaze. 

‘Well, you know I can’t stop you,’ he replies, guard up and tone sharp. Perhaps too sharp. In the dark of the room Lucifer’s features are caught in shadow and he is glad of that, too. It feels safer. 

Behind him, he hears Dan shift and he hopes that Dan will take the hint (for once), that he has made Dan sufficiently uncomfortable to leave the topic - and Lucifer - alone.

Dan doesn’t take the hint. 

‘Lucifer,’ his voice is soft, the aural equivalent of stepping on eggshells. Lucifer hates him for it, feels it like unwanted fingers across skin. On his bare arms his flesh goose pimples, half in memory, half in rage as his hackles start to rise. 

‘What?’ He snaps. He turns to glare at the douche, his _Master_ , expecting pity or disgust. Even perhaps a hint of joy at Lucifer’s suffering, as deep down remains Lucifer’s deepest suspicion. But, oddly, Daniel’s face bears none of these. 

Instead he is very quiet, eyes just looking at Lucifer with that seemingly endless bloody concern. Like Lucifer is something small and helpless in need of cosseting. The way the irritating man looks at his ridiculous, sticky little spawn.

Or the way he looks at Chloe. Like Lucifer is... _precious_.

Lucifer’s rage - all prepared earlier and ready to serve up warm and scorching - sputters before fizzling out like a damp squib. 

Without it he feels even more off-kilter and out of sorts. Without it, he feels vulnerable. 

If Dan is aware of or relieved by the dissipation of Lucifer’s (usually terrifying) rage he gives no sign. He seems torn between speaking his mind and uttering something Lucifer suspects neither of them want to hear or just leaving things be. 

Lucifer knows which one he wants. He slides his jacket on like armour and smiles, faux-brightly, flashing - or baring - his teeth at his host. ‘Well, it does appear to be rather late, Daniel, I do believe it’s time to call it a night. Don’t suppose you could be a gentleman and offer me a drink for the drive back? Or are you worried you’d them have to _book_ me for driving under the influence?’ He manages a half-hearted leer at ‘book’ which unfortunately seems to just bounce off Daniel like a penny off a pair of well-supported breasts. 

Dan is silent for a moment, eyes appearing to search Lucifer’s face intently for what Lucifer does not know. Then abruptly Dan nods, clearing his throat awkwardly. ‘Right, um, alcohol. Because yeah, that’s definitely something we both need at the moment,’ he mutters under his breath.

Obligingly and still with that furrowed brow he goes to the fridge and fetches them two bottles beer.

He presses one into Lucifer’s hand, seemingly oblivious to Lucifer’s dubious glance at the generic label. But instead of releasing the bottle, he holds on for a moment, hand just above Lucifer’s on the cold slippery glass. 

He draws Lucifer’s reluctant gaze. Dan looks unusually serious, and opens his mouth as if to say something before appearing to change his mind and instead managing an uncomfortable smile. ‘Hey, uh. How about a nightcap instead? I mean,’ he quickly continues before Lucifer can even respond, ‘I mean it’s late and we've both got work tomorrow and…’ he trails off uncomfortably. His gaze locks with Lucifer’s and Lucifer suddenly is aware of how close they are standing, the warmth of his fingers just above Lucifer’s own. 

As though also abruptly aware of this, Dan releases the bottle and steps back, hand coming up to compulsively rub at the back of his neck, gaze skittering away.

The pause that followed feels so pregnant it was likely expecting octuplets. Lucifer hopes they don’t turn out like Beatrice. ‘Lucifer, you look like hell-’

Lucifer snorts loudly, and Dan rolls his eyes.

‘Fine, I accept,’ Lucifer says magnanimously, secretly grateful for Dan’s usual brand of inept Dannishness for breaking the silence. ‘You may have the presence of my company for the evening. But only if you refrain from making any more ridiculous puns.’

‘Ridic- you do that _all the time_.’

‘Yes well,’ Lucifer sniffs. ‘I’m entitled.’

The pause this time is much less pregnant. Like the octuplets have burst forth and are now running around, no doubt throwing food and crayons at each other. Lucifer shudders a little at the mere thought.

‘And I’m taking the bed,’ Lucifer declares. ‘You may sleep on the weaponised couch.’

‘You- How come I have to-?’ Dan suddenly stops mid-protest, running a hand through his hair distractedly. ‘Er. You know what, that’s probably a good idea.’

Lucifer squints at him. Daniel seems to be even more incoherent than usual tonight (which is saying something). ‘Are you feeling quite alright?’

‘Me?!’ Dan seems almost baffled by the question. (Again, nothing new. In the time that Lucifer has known Daniel the man has proved somewhat easy to baffle, with everything from simple conversations about hell and eternal afterlife and damnation to everyday talk of sex seeming to confuse his poor little brain. By now Lucifer merely endeavours to use small words and speak slowly out of consideration.)

Looking at him now, Lucifer is not sure he likes the strange, contorted set of Dan’s features. It looks like concern. Or worse, _pity_. ‘Lucifer, I-’

Well, that simply won’t do. 

‘Now then.’ Lucifer smiles sharply, as he toys with the unopened bottle in his hand. ‘I believe you said something about a nightcap? I’m not sure this qualifies.’ 

And with that, he drops the bottle on the ‘couch’ and stalks off to investigate the sleeping habitats of douches.

-

Really? _Beige_ is the colour Daniel decided to go with for the bedroom?

Dear Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably already know, but _à la carte_ means 'off the card/menu' where you have the freedom of choice from multiple options. This is of course is in direct opposition to a set menu where you are served whatever the restaurant has chosen for the meal.
> 
> /*drops symbolism like a cymbal*


	22. Lucid Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer embodies the phrase ‘no rest for the wicked’ and Dan tries to be a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst and fluff courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood authors - hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> We decided to post this one early partly because a) guilt, b) the chapter after this was a delight to write and we can’t wait to post that next*. Not to tease you all… (far be it from us *whistles innocently*)
> 
> Warnings for more angsty flashbacks and more dubious food stuff. :(
> 
>  
> 
> *also accrues may have thrown a tantrum.

Lucifer wakes screaming.

He thrashes helplessly, trapped and bound, still feeling the phantom burn of the lake of fire searing through his skin, through his wings.

He tries to flap his wings, to fly, _but he can't_ , why can't he fly? And there is a tightness around his neck, a chain, a binding choking him, like the collar that bound him for that first lonely aeon in Hell and his fingers tears at his throat, digging desperately under the cold metal trying to wrench it off, but it _hurts_ and-

Hands are there at his arms, trying to hold him back, hold him down and there's a voice and Lucifer lashes out, punching and kicking wildly, hearing his opponent grunt in pain and then his eyes fly open and he sees a face he knows, familiar and rapidly bruising, his _Master_ -

Lucifer freezes in place, utterly terrified, before scrambling desperately out of bed - his Master’s bed - and falling to the ground almost without even thinking it. Huddling close to the floor at His feet, hoping against hope in his scattered brain for mercy. He breathes shakily, almost quivering, face bent near the floor, sick with the memory of _pain_ and _fear_ and _abandonment_ and rendered voiceless, unable even to beg as tears climb, constricting his throat.

In an instant the _hands_ are back, almost frantic and Lucifer cowers, but instead of striking or punishing him, they're gently touching his upper arms, a voice murmuring hoarsely, almost as if to a child. ‘Hey, it's okay, it's just me, you're fine. It was just a dream, _relax_.’

And Lucifer almost melts into the rough carpet, limbs going limp.

The voice curses and the hands rub almost helplessly at Lucifer’s shoulders as he quakes. ‘Hey, man, come on, get up.’ Lucifer immediately, shakily tries to stand and the hands clutch at him, helping him. He is guided to the edge of the bed and he looks up to see Dan.

He blinks as if only now truly awaking. ‘Dan?’ he asks, voice surprisingly raw.

Dan looks worried and intent but manages a crooked smile. ‘Yeah,’ he says, voice rough like sandpaper. ‘‘Fraid so.’

He looks, thinks Lucifer distantly, slightly ill, almost green and there is a large red mark at the base of his right eye that Lucifer realises he may have put there.

Despite himself Lucifer reaches out to touch it, unthinking. ‘Did I do that?’

Inexplicably Dan smiles wonkily. ‘You were dreaming, don't worry about it.’

Lucifer drops his arm, numb and immediately, totally unconcerned. ‘I don’t dream,’ he informs him disinterestedly.

Dan snorts disbelievingly and his sharp grey eyes survey Lucifer as if trying to see inside him. Lucifer wishes he wouldn't.

‘Well, you do a pretty good impression of it,’ he says, tone wry.

Lucifer nods. After a moment he frowns and takes in the room, the bed covers is disarray, the sweat on his body, clinging to his skin, making the collar stick tighter to his neck than ever before and Dan, looking disheveled and worried, sitting beside him.

Lucifer swallows and clears his throat, hands clasped tightly in his lap. In the half light of the room, the dream seems to cling to him, holding him to the past and old fears. ‘I'm sorry for waking you.’ He waits for a response, half expecting remonstrance or a suggestion to make it up to him.

But Dan just nods, face tense and strangely, vaguely sad. ‘No problem,’ he hesitates. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

Lucifer considers, before answering honestly. ‘I don’t know.’

They sit together in the silence of Dan's bedroom for a very long time.

-

The morning dawns bright and disgustingly cheerful and Lucifer stretches on the bed, long limbs splaying over his head, absently twining around the cold metal bars of the bed head.

He feels surprisingly warm and well-rested despite their midnight misadventure and closes his eyes half thinking of dropping back off to the Land of - well, not dreams, thankfully. He's no mortal and Morpheus, no matter what Dan may think, has no hold on him. Memories and blackness are the only two things he sees at night behind his closed eyelids and he knows which he - ha - prays for.

It's as he starts to drop off that a quiet cough rouses him. Lucifer blinks himself awake and looks up. Dan is lingering uncomfortably in his own doorway. ‘Hey,’ he says, voice weirdly hushed. ‘Sorry, I just need to grab a few things and head to work.’ He gestures almost apologetically at his closet. Lucifer squints at him before focusing quickly on his own internal sense of time. It's later in the morning than he somehow expected and Lucifer frowns. ‘It's seven in the morning,’ he says. ‘Aren't you running late?’

Dan nods, a little wryly. ‘A bit. Thought you could use the sleep,’ he adds nonsensically.

Lucifer watches him in bafflement before unfolding himself from the bed and making his way out the door. Dan blinks. ‘What are you doing?’

Lucifer eyes him. ‘May I have a shower?’

Dan swallows, looking for some reason strangely nervous, Adam’s apple (odd turn of phrase, Lucifer had always thought - why would the apple be down Adam's throat? Some bizarre sexual kink?) bobbing uneasily. Speaking of ‘odd’.

‘Yeah, sure, man. Go for it.’

Lucifer thanks him and starts to strip off as he wends his way to the bathroom, oblivious to the choked noise behind him.

As he lathers off, Lucifer contemplates the case. The Locusts. Former cherubim and current hellbeasts bent on the punishment of those turned away from God. But who set them loose? And why? According to the old prophecies (useless as they were) the blasted creatures weren't supposed to be out until the End so what did this mean? Lucifer had heard nothing of an apocalypse yet. 

Well. There'd certainly been events that could, in _hindsight_ , be construed as omens, plagues and earthquakes and wars and general devastation, but then so there had been almost continuously ever since Dad had given Adam and Eve the celestial boot all those aeons ago. It just makes no sense.

Scrubbing his long-fingered hands through his curling hair, Lucifer sighs. And Amenadiel and Mum had been worse than useless. Unsurprising really. His only hope was that the Detective and Dan could help him shed some light on the matter.

As he washes off, water sluicing down the planes of this form, Lucifer absently tugs at his cock, which sits uninterested in his hand. No matter what he does with it, it remains flaccid, his touch not unpleasant but not exactly thrilling, either. His hand falls away and with a huff of irritation he jerks the taps closed and steps out of the shower. Bloody typical, he'd forgotten that the blasted spell took a very literal view of the use and abuse of what it deems his _Master’s_ equipment. Bloody hell.

He growls furiously as he wrenches his jeans and shirt back on, cladding the leather jacket like armour and stomps off to the kitchen.

-

When Dan comes out of the bedroom, fully dressed, freshly showered and shaved, it's to Lucifer angrily flipping pancakes at his stove. They smell delicious but Lucifer also looks like he's considering disemboweling someone - probably Dan - so Dan approaches with caution. 

‘Thanks, man,’ he says tentatively. ‘You didn't have to cook.’

Lucifer casts him a cool glare. ‘Didn't I?’

Dan swallows, sensing with an almost preternatural ability that somewhere he's screwed up again.

He clears his throat. ‘If you don't want to then please stop, I can take over.’

Lucifer looks away and grumbles. ‘It's fine. I'm nearly done.’

With poor grace he deposits the pancakes along with what looks like fresh strawberries and _maple syrup_ (did Dan even _have_ maple syrup or is conjuring amazing deliciousness another of Lucifer’s magic powers?) onto the Dan’s green plastic plate and slamming it on the table.

Dan hesitantly takes a seat and digs in before noticing that Lucifer's just standing there, watching him. He's only served one plate. Dan pauses, loaded fork halfway to his mouth before asking, ‘Aren't you going to have some?’

Lucifer eyes him suspiciously. ‘Do you wish me to partake?’

Dan nods automatically. ‘Yes, of course. Sit down, man.’

He winces the moment he hears himself but Lucifer is already scowling and moves to drop to his knees beside Dan’s chair. Dan freezes. ‘Not what I meant,’ he almost yelps. He hesitates, recalling Lucifer’s weird insistence on spending last night sitting on the floor until he could barely stand. ‘You can sit at the table, if you want to,’ he phrases carefully.

Lucifer snorts, but to his relief rises and takes the chair opposite Dan. His dark eyes drop to Dan’s plate and before Dan thinks of telling him - suggesting to him - to fetch another, Lucifer reaches out and hovers his long fingers just above Dan’s on the fork. His eyes flick up to meet Dan’s. ‘May I?’ His voice is neutral and Dan finds himself nodding automatically.

But to his surprise Lucifer doesn't take his fork, but wraps his hand around Dan’s frozen fingers and leans down to take a bite _right off Dan's fork_.

Dan stares, shocked and mesmerised, as sinfully red lips wrap around the tines and almost suck the pancakes off, deft tongue chasing after the hint of maple syrup. He's instantly, horrifyingly, hard in his work pants and wants to castrate himself.

He yelps and drops the fork to Lucifer’s obvious puzzlement. ‘I'm gonna- I'm gonna go get another fork,’ he blurts, before darting towards the safety - and relative concealment - of the kitchen, leaving a baffled Lucifer behind in his wake.

\- 

‘Did you just have a second shower? Whatever for?’

Lucifer stares at Dan, clearly perplexed.

Dan who may or may not have just spent ten minutes enjoying a positively arctic shower in an attempt to kill the horrible coil of heat he feels whenever Lucifer does something… Lucifer-y. Like whatever ungodly thing he just did with Dan’s poor uneaten breakfast or the whole _stripping in Dan’s bedroom_ thing.

Dan who had spent those wonderful ten freezing minutes desperately attempting to revisit every unsexy thought in his life to shake _other_ thoughts of a distinctly non-platonic nature. 

In this valiant attempt he had tried dwelling on the following: 1) that one unerasable memory of his Abuela bathing back from when he was ten (usually works), 2) his definitely _mutual_ divorce from Chloe and all the pain and suffering that entailed, 3) the deeply awkward fact that he had slept with Lucifer’s mother, AKA: Goddess of All Creation (not as helpful as anticipated by virtue of the fact that recalling this meant _thinking_ of sleeping with the Goddess of All Creation which - yeah, still hot, dammit), and finally 4) the thought of just how much Lucifer would despise Dan if he knew that literally hours after the concerning and obviously traumatic events of last night, Dan was contemplating sex with him. 

That last one proved most effective and now, standing in front of Lucifer, all leather and ridiculous hair curling adorably over the top of his ears, Dan feels proud to know he no longer entertains any thoughts at all that might- 

Wait.

Adorable?!

_Goddammit._


	23. Paper Planes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chloe has a much needed heart-to-heart with her partner and Lucifer, as always, takes a unique spin on well-intended advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your amazing comments! Bit of a shorter chapter today before a very long, fun chapter on Wednesday. :D Enjoy!

Unfortunately for Chloe, over the next two days the case hits a dead end. Dan has no joy tracing the scorpion venom, much to Lucifer’s obvious disgust.

Her partner had stormed off that morning muttering ‘if you want something doing, do it yourself’ which, given his track record and, you know, having actually _met_ him, has Chloe worried.

Lucifer is busy when she finds him, sitting on the bridge connecting the two sides of the precinct and throwing remarkably detailed paper airplanes across the bullpen. She picks one up, examining the wing flaps adjusted just so to create the perfect airflow. Sometimes she forgets that Lucifer used to be an angel, but occasionally he does things that remind her that it’s not just annoying British or devilish darkness. There’s creativity in there too. A sense of appreciation for the universe - whether or not the universe appreciates him in return. It’s one of the things she loves about him.

Then she unfolds the airplane and finds a fully-filled out police report. One of Dan’s no less.

‘Lucifer!’ She snaps, tilting her head back to glare at him, one hand on her hip. He raises his eyebrows, twists the plane in his hand, and sends it flying down to hit her squarely on the nose.

‘Damn it, Lucifer!’

This one is page 7 of the same police report. Where the other five pages are, she has no idea. She smoothes it out, and makes an annoyed sound before stomping over to the stairs. He doesn’t move, just remains with his back to her until she steps up next to him.

Faced with his hunched shoulders and the tight set of his mouth, she softens.

‘What are you doing, Lucifer?’ She sighs. ‘Is this about Dan?’

He looks at her, head cocked slightly and frowns. ‘Daniel? No. Why would you think-’

She just snatches the next half-folded plane out of his hand and smoothes it out, pointing at the badge number listed at the top.

‘-oh. Well, no. These were just the closest pages I could find.’

Of course they were. There’s a beat as he picks up yet another piece of paper - probably page 3 or something - and starts folding it carefully.

‘You have a real talent for that,’ she says gently, and his hand stills. Then, as if nothing had happened, he returns to his task, tucking one fold in and backward to do _something_ , Chloe can’t even pretend to understand this level of aeronautics.

‘Yes, well,’ he says, dangerously casual in a way she knows isn’t casual at all. ‘I was once _used_ for creation. A tool in a plan, as per bloody usual.’

‘Is that what this is about? God?’

Lucifer sends the plane flying, letting it land gently atop the vending machine. It’s an impressive flight, she has to admit, even if it’s going to be a pain in the ass to retrieve it later. ‘No.’ He broods finally. ‘I really doubt it is.’

Clearly she’s not going to get much out of him this way. She sighs, and slides to the ground next to him, gripping the creased pages of the doomed report. She twiddles with a fold. ‘Did something happen with Dan? Only you seemed pretty heated when you stormed out earlier.’

‘This has nothing to do with Detective Dou-’ he sighs. ‘-Dan.’ He pauses. ‘Well, no more than usual.’

‘Lucifer, I know he can be… difficult, but he’s trying his best. I know what he looks like when he’s trying not to screw up.’

‘What,’ Lucifer quips, sending a plane to tap on the door of Ella’s lab. ‘Less moronic than usual?’ They watch as the door slides opens and Ella’s head pops out, clearly confused.

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe’s voice is carefully even, not chastising but firm. The voice she uses with Dan or Trixie when she’s being too much like her father.

Lucifer’s expression contorts into a sulk before shifting to something more pained. ‘Yes well, I wish he wouldn’t sometimes, it’s getting old. I liked it better when he was a douche: all this trying to be a ‘good’ man.’ He makes skeptical little air-quotes before dropping his hands in irritation. ‘It’s exhausting.’

‘We love you,’ Chloe says, and then coughs. ‘I mean, all of us do. Me, Dan, Trixie. We just want you to be happy.’

Lucifer snorts. ‘Good luck.’ His hands are empty now, all the paper used up. Chloe leans against him and tilts her head against the warmth of his bicep. He freezes, just for a moment, and then lets his body relax a little to press against hers.

‘You know that if you need help all you have to do is ask, right?’ She murmurs into the space between them. ‘Just ask, Lucifer. That’s all you need to do.’

They watch in companionable silence as below Ella picks up Lucifer’s plane, face splitting into a delighted beam.

-

Chloe flags down Dan when he emerges into the bullpen a full hour later - following an abrupt and very Lucifer-ish disappearance of her errant partner. Just typical for him to promptly swan off while she thought they were finally getting to have a moment.

‘Hey,’ Dan says, looking distracted and slightly annoyed. ‘Have you seen my report? I had it lined up to give to the Lieutenant and I can’t find it.’

Chloe struggles to keep a straight face. ‘Yeah. About that.’

He looks at her, confused, and Chloe hands him a half folded plane. ‘They’re all over the precinct.’

Dan stares at it. ‘What? How did-?’ Then he stops and emits a faint growl. ‘Never mind. I can guess. Where is he?’

But Chloe ignores his ire, mind still turning over the conversation with Lucifer. He seemed different today, darker and more bittersweet. Almost like he’s planning something. She doesn’t like it.

She folds her arms, feeling uneasy. ‘Do you get the feeling Lucifer’s hiding something?’

Dan looks up warily, plane forgotten in his hand. ‘Like what?’

Chloe sighs, ‘I don’t know, Dan. That's the problem. I don’t know if it’s the case or everything that’s been going on with you two, but something’s not right with him.’

Oblivious to Dan’s plaintive ‘when is it right?’, she frowns, lost in her thoughts before nodding to herself and turning away.

‘Coming?’ she calls over her shoulder.

Dan huffs but trots to catch up. ‘To do what?’

She looks at him, determined. ‘To get answers.’  
-

Lux is quiet at this time of the day. Dan has never particularly liked the emptiness of the club in daylight hours before the doors open and the crowds ascend. To him the whole thing seems to have the creepy air of an abandoned building, full of shadows and unspoken dangers; the lights always seeming dimmer and the nooks and crannies darker without the partiers or Lucifer’s ever-vibrant presence.

But today it seems worse than usual - the very atmosphere seems tenuous, uneasy.

Chloe, beside him, seems to sense it too, the line of her lean body held tense and ready.

And then they hear it, the sound of raised voices, echoing down the elevator - one of which is clearly Lucifer shouting at the top of his voice.

‘- if you weren't such a _little fool_ none of this would have come to pass!’

‘Me? I'm not the way who started this, you great bloody oaf! You and that gigantic bastard you call a dad -’

And then, alarmingly, Lucifer’s bellowed words are sharply cut off by a loud _crash_.

The elevator doors ding open and Chloe darts into the room, Dan following at her heels, swearing as he reaches for his gun.

Lucifer is pressed up against one of his weird, antique pillars and between him and them stands a _giant_.

Well, maybe not a giant, but a very large man, taller even than Lucifer by at least a good two inches and broader across the shoulders, dressed in a strange white tunic.

And he has their friend and partner pinned to the pillar by one strong hand around Lucifer’s neck, fingers viciously constricting just above Lucifer’s collar.

Dan lifts his gun and out of the corner of his eye he sees Chloe do the same as she shouts ‘LAPD. Step away from him!’

She looks furious, sharp blue eyes all but sparking with rage.

The man doesn't so much as flinch, but Lucifer, face tight and cold says sharply, ‘I'd listen to the lady, if I were you, brother. She has a surprisingly short temper when pushed.’

 _Brother_?

The man - Angel? Demon? - snorts sardonically and, just for an instant, presses Lucifer’s neck tighter against the stone, as if to illustrate a point, before making a show of releasing him and taking a large step back. He turns to regard them and Dan stares.

The man is incredibly handsome. Like _Lucifer_ levels of handsome.

He also looks freaking terrifying.

Fair and square-jawed with hair so blonde it's almost white and clipped into a crew cut which suits his military bearing, he looks cold and imperious and contained. A tang of ozone, of _power_ thrums through the air around him, almost palpable. His bare, well-muscled arms and _was that a sword clipped at his belt_ do nothing to counter the impression Dan has formed in an instant that this is not a man he would ever want to cross.

Unfortunately, from the look of sheer, unadulterated rage that flashes across his face when he looks at Dan, Dan suspects that cross him he has.

The man shakes his head, mouth a cold, hard line and turns to regard Lucifer who has stepped away from the pillar and is rubbing at his neck irritably.

‘Is this him, then? The man who has enslaved you?’

His voice is an icy rumble, and reminds Dan of the inevitability of an avalanche. His accent sounds European but not British to Dan. He sounds like a freaking Viking.

Lucifer darts a look between Dan and the man and looks uneasy. ‘Michael, I -’

‘Is this _him_?’ The clipped words of, oh god, Michael, _the archangel Michael_ , are insistent, implacable.

At Lucifer’s loud silence Michael snorts dismissively before turning and walking slowly but inexorably towards Dan, body tense and eyes glittering.

Then his hand falls to the hilt of his sword and he says, simply and clearly, ‘ _I am going to rip out your throat._ ’


	24. The Angel of Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael has some reservations regarding the bond and expresses them with his usual restraint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual because I managed to talk Erya into it. YOU'RE WELCOME. ~ accrues
> 
> Slander, I cry, slander! As a deeply charitable soul, I have no earthly knowledge of what my good co-author refers. We hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it! :P ~ Erya

At the - God, terrifying - threat, Chloe yanks up her gun, ready to shoot, while Dan stands frozen beside her like a deer caught in the headlights.

Michael - _the archangel Michael_ \- casts her a cool, evaluating gaze and says dryly, ‘I wouldn’t bother. Unlike my brother I _am_ invulnerable to bullets. You'll merely be putting your life and his at risk by firing that pitiful weapon.’

He smiles at her shock and continues to advance but Lucifer dashes before him looking, just for a moment, frantic.

‘Michael,’ he says, almost wheedling, ‘No need to be hasty. Why don't we all just take a deep breath and talk things over, eh?’ He smiles but it's shaky and, Chloe suspects, fools exactly no one in the room.

Lucifer stands between Michael and his prey, hands raised, palms out, placating. Michael stops a foot away from him and eyes him as though he were an insect. ‘Move aside, brother.’ It's unmistakably an order, issued coldly and with the expectation of obedience.

Lucifer’s throat bobs in a swallow but he doesn’t budge. ‘Leave him. He's done nothing wrong.’

Michael snarls, looking incredulous. ‘Nothing wrong? He has bound you, little brother. He has you collared and on a _leash_ , and you expect me to believe him faultless.’ He scoffs shortly. ‘I say one more time, Lucifer. Stand. Aside.’

Lucifer looks pale and furious and Chloe wants desperately to go to him, but suspects that would only serve to escalate the situation.

Lucifer refuses to move. ‘No. He's a good person and I'm not going to let you kill him. Besides,’ he gives a shaky, defiant grin. ‘What would Dad say?’

Michael smiles a close-lipped smile and shakes his head as though amused. ‘Who said anything about killing him? I merely intend to rip out his insolent _tongue_ so that he may never presume to order one of our kind again.’

Lucifer looks as frozen as Chloe feels, her mind still gibbering about Michael the Protector, patron saint of cops everywhere. God, she still had her dad’s St Michael’s medal in her desk drawer at work for good luck.

‘No. No, that's not necessary, Michael.’ He hesitates and then says almost pleadingly, desperately, as if trying to convince his brother - or himself. ‘He's a good man.’

Michael actually throws back his head and laughs chillingly. ‘A good man?’ He mimics mockingly. ‘Have you even _seen_ his soul?’ He chuckles dryly and Chloe bristles. Dan may not be perfect, may be a liar and at times, supremely unreliable, but he is, at heart, a good man. She firmly believes that.

Her partner shifts uneasily but stands his ground, loyally. ‘You're not going to hurt him.’

Michael smiles icily, all white teeth and edges. ‘Oh? And who's going to stop me? _You_?’

He smiles tightly but turns and inspects Lucifer critically as though examining for cracks. His eyes fall to the collar and all amusement disappears. ‘You're trying to protect him, which is truly laudable, dear brother, it really is. But don't you see? It's merely another mark of your bondage. You protect him because your bond compels you to do so.’

Lucifer swallows but shakes his head, refuting this. ‘No. I'm protecting him because he's my - my _friend_ , Michael.’

Michael looks cooly disbelieving. ‘Now that I cannot credit. We both of us know you to be incapable of friendship.’ Ignoring Lucifer’s sharp intake of breath Michael surveys him with something approaching pity and shakes his head. ‘You poor fool. He's human, Luci. He cares nothing for you, brother. Neither of them do.’

He smiles and leans in close to Lucifer, voice low and as sharp as a blade, aiming to draw blood. ‘Watch and I'll prove it.’

He turns and smiles at Dan, mouth like razors and Chloe steps up beside him, worried sick and furious about where the bastard is going with this.

‘Human. I will give you a choice. I understand your kind are fond of _choice_.’

His eyes glitter like ice. ‘I wish to rend you limb from limb for the crime you have committed. Your choices are thus. Either compel your _creature_ ,’ he casts a disdainful look at Lucifer, ignoring his flinch, ‘To protect you. Or order him to stand aside while I lay you to waste. I should tell you that when last my brother and I did battle I tore his wings, broke his back and watched as he Fell screaming into the Abyss. And I am all for doing it again here and now - with him wingless and bound as he is, I can't imagine he'll last long.’ He snorts, face avid and vicious.

‘Of course,’ Michael states, tone turning sly and arch. ‘If I do destroy him, I may well be satisfied and leave you unharmed. Do decide quickly for I am not known for my patience.’

He tilts his head and regards Dan, who is frozen in shock.

At a harsh breath from his side, Chloe's eyes are drawn to Lucifer. Her partner looks like a wreck. Pale and gaunt as a ghost next to Michael, his eyes seem wide and very young. He gazes at Dan and appear to be almost pleading for something, but for what Chloe has no earthly idea.

Lucifer edges closer to Michael and raises his hands as though preparing to strike and all Chloe can hear is _I broke his back_ when Dan barks in a sharp, frightened voice, ‘Lucifer, don't fight him.’

God, Chloe loves him. She steps in front of Dan, ignoring his restraining hand on her arm and hissed, frantic ‘Chloe!’ and flicks the safety off her gun, archangel warning be damned

For the barest instant, something like surprise flashes across Michael's face before he snorts as though in amusement and brushes past the frozen form of his brother, closing the distance between Dan and him.

Lucifer snarls, frozen into place by the order. ‘Michael, don't you dare. Michael,’ he repeats voice wavering as his brother nears Chloe and Dan.

‘Michael, _have mercy_.’

This of all things seems to give the bastard pause as he whirls around and turns on his brother furiously. ‘I _am_ ,’ he snaps vehemently. ‘This is me being merciful and attempting to spare you from the consequences of your own accursed actions.’

He pauses, face set in a harsh rictus of righteous anger. ‘Do you have any idea what you've _done_? What your folly has brought onto not only you, but all of us?’

At Lucifer’s confused expression, his brother growls, eyes burning with an almost unholy fire. ‘He's mortal, Luci. Desperate and greedy and grasping like the rest of his sinful, impure race. Has it not even occurred to you the depth of depravity he can order you to? Not just your own subjugation but the harm to others?’ He pauses, eyes burning.

‘Lucifer, he could order you to kill - humans, demons, your own family and you would be bound to obey no matter your convictions.’

He looks at Lucifer in disgust, hand clenching about the hilt of his sword. But Lucifer shakes his head in denial. ‘He wouldn't.’

Michael laughs, loud and harsh. ‘And how do you know that? He's a man and you and I both know enough of men to have learnt how they love their wars.’

Lucifer just looks at him before glancing away, mouth twisted wryly, bitterly. ‘I suppose I have faith.’

There’s a brief pause while Michael stares at his brother in disbelief as Choe stands, hands still white around her gun, ready and tensely waiting, Dan still and eerily quiet beside her.

Michael looks contemptuous. ‘Faith. So you’re happy to have _faith_ , to take orders from that unworthy creature but not from your own brother or Lord Father?’ He snorts.

Lucifer throws up his hands in aggravation, mouth tight and face pale. ‘Oh, don't be so quick to judge, _brother_.’ He drops his hands and gives Michael a twisted smile.

‘I gave _Dad_ first dibs. Stood outside and _begged_ the way he wanted, to do anything, be anything, so long as he spared her. But guess, what? Nothing. Nada. He wasn't interested and why would he be when he was clearly setting me up for a much more satisfying Fall?’ He shakes his head bitterly and crosses his arms.

Michael frowns at him as though puzzled before shaking his head dismissively. ‘And why shouldn't he ignore you after the violation you visited on your last deal?’

Lucifer winces slightly but immediately snaps back. ‘I did no such thing! I promised to take Mum to Hell and I did! I brought hell to her on earth. Forced her to live out a paltry human life amongst,’ he grimaces, ‘children. You know how she despises children - and human ones in particular.’

Michael laughs shortly and tugs at his silver gauntlets. ‘Do you _really_ think our Father is so stupid that he would fail to see through your evasion? Lucifer, you knew the terms when you accepted the deal. You are fortunate He has been merciful this long despite your wilful oath-breaking.’

Lucifer snarls at him, face for the first time shifting fully into his devilish form, eyes burning red and burnt, scarred lips pulling hideously. ‘ _Merciful_? Look at what he's done to me, what he's forced me into.’

Michael is unmoved by his brother's ire. ‘Is that supposed to impress me? Control yourself, brother, before I have your Master do it for you.’

Almost awkwardly Lucifer snaps back into his human guise while Michael abruptly scoffs. ‘Say I believe you have ‘faith’ and that he,’ Michael jerks a hand contemptuously at Dan, ‘is a ‘good man’.’ He snorts as if to convey how likely he finds this to be.

‘What if his hand is forced? If he is controlled or otherwise extorted into using you, brother? What then? Can you see now why I must destroy him?’ His tone is that of someone firmly believing themselves to be the voice of reason. 'Ripping out his putrescent tongue - nay, even striking him dead, were it in my power to do so - may not spell the end of your subjugation but at least it will free you from his human weakness and  _whims_.' He glowers at Dan contemptuously. 

Lucifer looks pissed but also profoundly tired, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. ‘I'm aware he could be compelled but Michael, so could I. I, too, could be threatened and my hand forced even without this bloody bond.’ He swallows. ‘My hand _was_ forced.’ He looks away, jaw tight.

Far from being mollified, Michael's eyes sharpen. ‘It should not have been.’

Lucifer glares back at him, standing his ground. ‘Oh and what was I supposed to do? Let Chloe die?’

‘Yes,’ snarls Michael. ‘That is _exactly_ what you should have done! She's human, Luci. They live, they suffer and then they die. That's what they were _designed to do_. Their souls are the only part of them that is eternal. Unlike us.’ He takes a breath before adding more quietly. ‘You are not human, Lucifer, despite your bizarre fixation with passing for one.’

‘She’s our father’s _miracle_ ,’ Lucifer counters, hissing with anger.

‘Yes,’ snaps Michael, implacable. ‘Father brought her here to give you a choice: put your whole family at risk once more and save the little miracle, or come in to the fold and allow her to die. You chose _wrong_ , little brother. You murdered one of your kin and risked the rest for what, for _her_?’

He sighs and grips his belt, face grim. ‘This is precisely why divinity and humanity should never mix. It never ends well. Just look at our brothers, the Grigori.’

Lucifer glowers at him. ‘Yes, because by all means compare my - friendships with those monsters’  _assaults_.’

Michael disregards this and eyes Dan with obvious disdain. ‘I should rend this vile rodent apart before the enchantment takes further hold of you and you lose your mind and your will to even fight.’

At this Choe, voice sharp and horrified interjects. ‘Before _what_?’

Michael looks from Chloe and Dan, tense and obviously confused and Lucifer who is studiously avoiding everyone's gaze and seems to rear back slightly as though amazed. ‘You didn't tell them.’

He laughs. ‘Oh Lucifer, this is just typical. You enacted the bond and you didn't even properly _consent_ him.’

Lucifer shifts, looking hunted, before lifting his chin defiantly. ‘I did enough. I told him it would involve my - enslavement. He accepted because he was desperate to save Chloe’s life. I told him enough for the bond to be valid.’ His tone is insistent but he looks away.

Michael shakes his head with obvious, unsurprised, disapproval. ‘But you didn't tell him of the natural course of the enchantment.’

Lucifer remains silent and Dan finally speaks, moving forward. ‘What does that mean?’ He asks hoarsely in alarm, in his concern almost forgetting his terror of Michael.

Michael's mouth tightens and he turns to regards Dan and Chloe as though assessing them. ‘The enchantment will only strengthen over the time,’ he intones, voice dark. He looks, Chloe thinks, suddenly very tired. ‘Until eventually, perhaps in months, a year at most, his Will shall be all but subsumed under yours.’

Chloe stares, sickened and lowers her gun. ‘Lucifer,’ she says faintly. ‘Is this true?’

Lucifer flicks eyes up almost unwillingly to meet theirs. He hesitates before saying, ‘It's fine.’

Michael explodes at this, turning on his brother furiously. ‘ _It is not_ , Lucifer. It is _obscene_.’ He pauses, fierce features drawn into something resembling pain. ‘I knew you to be self-destructive, Lucifer, but this time you have truly surpassed yourself.’

He laughs shortly, almost tiredly, before to Chloe’s surprise moving close to Lucifer and cupping his face in one large hand, thumb resting over his cheekbone while Lucifer gazes back, startled and wide-eyed.

Michael’s voice when he speaks sounds old and _sad_. ‘You have been always wilful, brother - something I have oft had cause to lament, but if you think I ever wanted this day to come to pass you are sadly, deeply mistaken.’

His hand tightens nearly imperceptibly on Lucifer’s face before he abruptly releases him, stepping back, his demeanour almost defeated.

-

In the silence which follows, Dan thinks Lucifer looks almost stricken. After a moment he squares his shoulders and presses closer to Michael as though enraged. ‘Really?’ He snarls. ‘Because I was under the impression that this,’ he waves a hand furiously to encompass his collar, ‘is exactly what you and dear old Dad wanted. Me in chains, forced to my knees before Mankind as punishment for my,’ he chokes, ‘temerity in saying ‘no’.’

Michael frowns at him. ‘I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about.’ He snorts and looks away, crossing his broad arms. ‘Though I suppose that's hardly novel. I never could grasp what was going on in that bag of serpents you call a mind.’

Lucifer scowls, eyes bright and almost shining. ‘Your _scheme_ , Michael. Don't play games with me, you overgrown bloody bastard. Placing Chloe on Earth, making me,’ his voice catches for a moment, ‘fall in _love_ , then cursing Chloe to push me into this, this torture.’ He stops, almost breathless, looking furious and hurt and _raw_.

Dan feels the urge to go and hug him and punch Michael but he suspects he wouldn't survive the encounter.

Michael, however, is frowning, foot tapping against tile as though in bafflement. ‘You think _Heaven_ did this?’ He glances at Chloe. ‘That she was cursed on the orders of the Host?’

As his eyes rest on Chloe, cold like chips of agate, Chloe lifts her chin defiantly, brave and strong as ever. Dan loves her and is also _terrified_ for her. ‘Are you saying that God didn't try to kill me?’

Her voice is loud and clear and she's glaring, in that moment somehow more than a match for an archangel of the Lord and Dan reflects faintly that maybe he should instead be terrified _of_ her.

Michael nods curtly, mouth still stern and downturned. ‘I am aware of no such orders. And,’ he adds, ‘As the right hand of God little escapes my notice.’

He turns and frowns at his brother, voice sharpening. ‘You really thought our Father would do such a thing?’

Lucifer scoffs loudly. ‘Yes, I have no idea why I would ever think ill of Dad. After all he only had you,’ his voice chokes, ‘break me and toss me into Hell for one little mistake.’

Michael's face goes abruptly dark and with a snarl he stalks towards his brother, who despite himself shrinks back slightly. ‘One mistake?’ he rumbles, disbelieving. ‘You rebelled, Lucifer, you disobeyed and sowed discord. You deserved everything that was done to you.’

Lucifer scoffs furiously but his eyes are very bright as he looks away. Michael glowers at him and steps closer, pressing on. ‘Still clinging to this pretence of innocence, are you?’ He growls, low and dark. ‘You, who preached insurrection and did scheme to kill our Father to take his place?’

Lucifer swings around and stares at him, face wild. ‘I never did!’

Michael snarls, ‘And still you lie!’

Lucifer lunges at him before stopping as though something is physically holding him back. The bond, Dan realises with a jolt. Enraged, he spits, eyes red, ‘I don’t lie! I never do! Mislead, evade, omit, absolutely, I own that, but I do not lie, Michael!’

At his brother's pause, Lucifer continues, hands balled helplessly into fists he cannot swing. ‘I rebelled, disobeyed and questioned - I freely admit to all of that. I have never denied it and I never will. But I never wanted to commit patricide or take the Silver City. Why would I want to do that? I wanted freedom not rule!’

He stops as though out of breath, face bloodless. ‘I loved him, Mike.’ He laughs bitterly, ‘As naive and stupid as I was then.’ He takes a harsh breath before saying quietly, ‘I never would have tried to kill our Father.’

And Michael stares at him, forehead creased into a frown, eyes searching as if hunting for a tell. Finally, he steps away, face unreadable.

Lucifer meanwhile looks drained and sinks heavily into his loveseat. He looks up dully at the silent form of his brother. ‘You really thought I’d do that?’ He hesitates and swallows. ‘Did Dad tell you I did?’ He looks confused and terribly lost.

Michael shifts, for the first time looking almost awkward. Almost human. ‘Not in so many words.’

At his brother's confused frown Michael reluctantly expounds. ‘I recall Him telling me to go deal with my brother who schemes against Him.’ He hesitates before snapping, ‘Clearly, He meant you. Who else?’

Lucifer raises his head and stares at Michael disbelievingly. ‘Who else?’ He repeats numbly, before repeating, voice raising in rage. ‘ _Who else_? Do you mean to tell me He didn't even tell you to go after me, _specifically_? To punish me?’

He shakes his head, disbelief tempering the fury. ‘But He let you cast me into Hell.’

Michael glowers, still looking faintly ill at ease. ‘Well, you still disobeyed and rebelled, didn't you? The punishment was just.’ He says quietly, almost as though to himself.

Lucifer huffs a brittle sigh and buries his head in his hands as if exhausted.

‘Of course,’ he mutters bitterly. ‘Of bloody course.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always looking for new mates in fandom. If you wanna hang out and chat, I'm @accrues on twitter and @gated on tumblr. Just let me know here what your handle is (re: twitter) because I'm locked but happy to have new fandom friends. ~ accrues
> 
> And I'm eryaforsthye on tumblr and twitter. Ditto the above. Feel free to join me for my exciting adventures of reblogging all the Lucifer posts I can find and squeeing at the top of my voice. :P - Erya


	25. The Seal of God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus update for all you gorgeous readers! Bit shorter today with a longer one on Monday. :D
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the letter ‘a’ for accrues (and also ‘argh, Erya, why are there so many errant commas, what did grammar ever do to you?’) 
> 
> We hope you enjoy!

There's a long, heavy pause in the room and Chloe thinks that maybe the worst is over now that the tension between the two brothers has dissipated. She has no idea what to think or do about any of this. Trading glances with Dan makes her think he is just as overwhelmed.

Michael at least speaks, voice surprisingly subdued. ‘If any of this is true -’

Lucifer lifts his head and glares. ‘It _is_ ,’ he snarls.

‘Then,’ continues Michael, unabated, ‘I will speak to Father. He will surely be able clarify your past misdeeds.’

Lucifer snorted. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure he will, brother, I’m sure he bloody will.’ Then he sighs and absently - then with increasing irritation - tugs on his collar. ‘But never mind that, that’s not why I called you here.’

‘Wait,’ says Dan abruptly, still looking as pale as milk under his tan but apparently finding his voice, even as Chloe says, shocked, ‘You _called_ him?’

Lucifer frowns back at them, baffled. ‘Well, yes, of course I did.’ He says as though it was obvious.

Chloe and Dan trade horrified looks. It was not obvious.

Lucifer, for his part, looks impatient. ‘Honestly, Detective, you said it yourself just this morning.’ At her blank look he rolls his eyes before adopting a high pitch voice ‘imitation’ of hers, which even now, stressed beyond belief and faced a brand new celestial threat, manages to inspire fresh irritation in her. ‘’Ask for help, Lucifer’ you said, so I did.’ He waves a hand at Michael irritably. ‘I popped my hands together and summoned this idiot. Though fat lot of use he’s been so far.’ He huffs and ignores Michael’s deeply unimpressed glare.

Chloe can’t help herself; she lowers the gun in sheer exasperation and snaps, ‘Seriously, Lucifer? I meant _us_ , to ask _us_ , the people who care for you, for help if you needed it, not some-’

Whatever insult is on the tip of her tongue dries up as Michael shifts his weight in a vaguely threatening manner, sharp blue eyes piercing through her own. ‘Um.’

Lucifer seems to miss the byplay, apparently caught up in his own irritation. ‘Well, how was I to know that?’ He demands. ‘Honestly, sometimes I think you are quite incapable of being direct, Detective. Why you can’t simply just say what is on your mind is beyond me.’

Chloe opens her mouth to tell him what precisely is ‘on her mind’ but Michael raises his voice, cutting across her dismissively. ‘I will speak with Father.’ He frowns, ‘Perhaps He will have an answer for your,’ he gestures roughly at Lucifer’s neck and collar, ‘situation.’

Lucifer snorts. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath,’ he mutters. He frowns and rubs his mouth tiredly before looking up at Michael from his seat. ‘If Heaven wasn't behind this, that begs the question-’

‘Who is,’ finishes Michael, his expression troubled. He taps a booted foot. ‘Perhaps,’ he says, ‘You need to look to your own former dominion for that, Lucifer.’

Lucifer stares at him with growing unease. ‘Hell.’

Michael nods gravely. ‘You summoned me here to discuss The Plague.’ He pauses. ‘Have you proof of their involvement?’

Chloe frowns between them as Dan pipes up warily. ‘Plague?’ he echoes.

Chloe catches Lucifer wince out of the corner of her eye and glares, folding her arms across her chest. ‘More secrets?’ she asks sharply, his refusal to tell them about, _god_ , the bond - and what it may yet do to him - haunting her mind.

Lucifer looks up at her and Dan a little sheepishly as his brother snorts at him.

‘What the hell's ‘the Plague’?’ says Dan, voice terse. ‘It sounds - ominous.’

‘It is ominous,’ agrees Michael dryly. ‘In that it is literally an Omen.’

‘An omen?’ frowns Chloe. ‘Of what?’

Michael and Lucifer share a long look and Chloe feels her stomach sink. ‘What?’ she asks sharply.

It's Michael who speaks up. ‘The End of Times,’ he eventually states solemnly.

Dan chokes behind her. ‘ _The End of Times_? What, like the _apocalypse_?’

‘Exactly like,’ says Michael flatly.

Lucifer shifts. ‘But that's not due for another few years,’ he says, oblivious to Chloe and Dan's immediate alarm. Lucifer swallows, uneasy, ‘Or has the timetable changed while I've been - away?’

Michael shakes his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. There have been no such orders.’ He frowns before looking down at his brother. ‘I will look into this - if you have proof.’

Lucifer nods and turns to her. ‘Detective, I may need that lock of hair you recovered.’

Chloe starts. ‘The hair? Wait you mean this Plague thing involves the case?’

He huffs eying her and Dan impatiently. ‘The Plague _is_ the case, Detective.’ His face seems uncharacteristically sombre. ‘A plague of locusts descending on the unworthy and bringing them torment.’

Dan speaks up. ‘Locusts? Man, the guy was killed with scorpion venom. What have locusts got to do with it?’

Lucifer sighs deeply as though put upon while his brother snorts. ‘The Locusts,’ he says so slowly and patronising that Chloe could just shoot him (again). ‘Are not teeny tiny little bugs. They refer to a plague of demonic hell-beasts, part man, part locust and part scorpion which, when unleashed, hold and torture those without the Seal of God.’

Chloe stares at him in horror while Dan’s mouth literally drops open. Finally she says in a voice she is proud is mostly steady, ‘and you think that's what killed our suspect?’

Lucifer nods. Chloe looks at Dan helplessly who stares back, pale and just as weirded out before he says, ‘And what the hell’s a ‘Seal of God’?’

Michael snorts cooly. ‘Nothing in Hell. The Seal is a mark upon those souls judged as worthy by the Lord.’

He looks at Dan and smiles thinly. ‘I wouldn’t concern yourself with it though, boy. I can assure you, it’s something _you'll_ never receive.’

Michael disregards the cold look Lucifer gives him. ‘Bring me the hair, brother, as proof of your claims and I will investigate.’

Lucifer glares at him. ‘ _We_ will. I wouldn't trust you to investigate a goldfish robbery in an aquarium.’

He turns back to Chloe and Dan, disregarding his brother mouthing the words ‘goldfish robbery’ in puzzlement behind him.

He gives them a smile that does not reach his eyes.

‘Shall we, Detectives?’


	26. Such Beautiful Freaks of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A detective, two angels and a douche walk into a precinct. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a longer chapter! :D Enjoy!  
> Thank you for all your amazing comments, guys! :D
> 
> It’s Erya’s birthday. Everyone send her birthday wishes :3 
> 
> Warnings for er, monsters and general creepiness (including vaguely sexual overtones)?

And this is how Chloe finds herself standing in the lab with an archangel, the Devil, and her ex, going through evidence of a murder committed by alleged demonic hellbeasts.

Who may or may not have previously been _cherubs_.

Cherubim, yes, _thank you_ , Lucifer.

How is this even her life?

She had been uncomfortable about bringing an angel - clad in white tunic, gauntlets and _sword_ \- with them into a police precinct for what she sincerely hoped were obvious reasons, but Michael, looking stern and deeply unamused, had briefly conferred with Lucifer before telling her he would meet them there.

Somehow.

And sure enough as Chloe and Dan had stood in the lab like a pair of lemmings, Lucifer had closed the shutters and locked the door and, with a rushing displacement of air and a strange _flap_ , Michael had abruptly appeared.

Oh, right. _Angel_.

The hair is apparently sufficient proof for Michael to believe Lucifer about the Locusts.

For a rather concerning amount of time the brothers, well, talk shop. A lot of incomprehensible nonsense as far as Chloe can tell about ‘tracing spells’ and ‘scrying’ and ‘plunging back into abysses’, while Chloe and Dan stand around feeling surplus to requirements.

Eventually Chloe has enough of being made to feel like a bystander at her own workplace and interjects during a seemingly circular conversation regarding whether or not six foot tall giant locust-scorpions are capable of reason (Lucifer says ‘bloody hell, no’, Michael ‘maybe’). ‘So why kill Dalkin, specifically?’

Both celestial beings turn to look at her with almost comically matching looks of confusion. ‘Dalkin?’ repeats Lucifer.

Chloe manages not to roll her eyes. ‘The victim, Lucifer.’

‘Oh, him.’ Lucifer looks disinterested but Michael is frowning, brow heavily creased. ‘Your detective has a point, Lucifer. Why was this human killed? Indeed why was any human life taken? It is generally understood that while the Plague torment they do not have the power or the privilege to execute their prey.’

Lucifer shrugs. ‘I've already been over this with Maze and Amenadiel, Michael. Most likely it was just a stupid mistake. You know how bloody careless our cherubic brethren could be even when they were still good little boys and girls. They probably just overestimated how tough humans are and accidentally killed one. It happens. It probably won't happen again.’

Michael looks unimpressed and leans over the white backlit table of the lab. ‘An accident,’ he says dubiously. He frowns, clearly puzzled and just as clearly irritated by _being_ puzzled. ‘But why choose this particular human? Did he offend in some way?’

Lucifer smiles insincerely and prods at the case notes. ‘Oh absolutely. He was a banker after all. Oh and-’ he frowns, peering down at the documents, ‘-a rather militant atheist too, apparently. All manner of fun little comments about Dad on his blog.’ He grins approvingly.

Chloe’s eyebrows fly up on her forehead. ‘Wait, atheism’s a _sin_ now?’

Both brothers turn to stare at her. Chloe suppresses the urge to fidget uncomfortably.

‘It is in direct opposition to his word as passed down to Moses,’ Michael says gravely. ‘לא יהיה־לך אלהים אחרים על־פני.’

‘What?’ Dan’s face is likely a mirror image of Chloe’s. She’s so glad he asked so that she didn’t have to.

‘Thou shalt have no other gods before Me,’ Lucifer translates with an eye roll. 'Which also apparently applies to having _no_ gods.'

... maybe she should revisit the idea of going to church outside of weddings and funerals.

Oblivious to Chloe’s crisis of (non)faith, Lucifer blithely keeps talking. ‘Loosely translated. Really, what _do_ they teach you people in schools these days?’

‘Not ancient Hebrew,’ Dan’s voice is as dry as dust. Chloe admires his apparent lack of self-preservation if nothing else.

Lucifer clearly elects to ignore him. ‘Dad always was jealous. What,’ he smirks at Michael’s glare, ‘it’s no worse than jaywalking, internet piracy or manspreading these days. Honestly, Michael, you must learn to grow with the times.’

Michael is shaking his head, evidently deciding this sort of heathen bickering is beneath him. ‘Regardless, this is hardly sufficient cause to be submitted to torment, brother.’ He frowns. ‘And then there is the other question.’

Lucifer eyes him. ‘The question of why no one else wanted this wanke- oh I'm sorry, _banker_ , dead?’ He ventures with an unholy smirk. ‘Haven't you heard? Wall Street's even less popular than I am.’

Michael shoots him a cool look. ‘No, the question is just who released our twisted brethren in the first place. And why.’

-

_Elsewhere_ , the sound of chittering draws a muffled cry of terror from the lips of the woman bound hand and foot to the metal table. She is naked, breast bare and her once pale skin is raised with vivid, crimson burns. Her eyes are wide and white, rolling wildly in their sockets as the shadows draw closer and closer. ‘No, no, _please_!’ she gibbers, saliva foaming at her lips, her voice hoarse and wrecked.

Slowly, with almost agonising tenderness, a long, spear-like appendage slowly trails up her exposed flesh, up her thigh, past the delicate join of leg and torso. It softly brushes past her navel before finally circling lazily at a point at the very centre of her chest, between her breasts. Oblivious to her sobs and pleas for mercy, the chittering draws closer still, louder, the vibration almost causing the ground to quake before suddenly, suddenly the stinger retracts then plunges into the next sacrifice’s torso, straight into her heart and stilling it forever.

The screams fall abruptly silent with one final, wretched gurgle, while around the table a multitude of black shining eyes glitter icily about the rapidly cooling corpse.

-

Father had been… _unhelpful_ , muses Michael.

Michael had swiftly sought His counsel after his departure from Lucifer’s ‘home’, hoping for a clear answer regarding Lucifer's crimes - and his past and future. However, Father had been cryptic at best, giving no answers nor any hint of direction.

As he lands in the ‘lab’ (why ‘lab’? Michael can see no dogs) and folds his great wings about him, Michael reflects on his brother.

Michael had never been one to question the will of God as, by definition, Father was always right. Michael was no Lucifer, constantly poking and prying and doubting and worst of all, _wanting_. Michael shudders lightly.

But Michael had always very, very privately questioned the wisdom of giving Lucifer - bright, vibrant and incredibly egocentric Lucifer of all angels - the power of _desire_.

Why would Father choose to give his idiotic brother the ability to induce desire in others when he proved so utterly incapable of resisting his own ridiculous prideful urges?

It must be true what they said, that Father moves in ways most mysterious. Whoever ‘they’ were. Michael suspects the Endless, personally.

But then Father had issued the order for Lucifer’s banishment and Michael had thought that this, clearly, had been the Plan all along, ineffable as it was. To reveal to all the true extent of Lucifer’s weakness and wickedness.

It had all seemed so clear to Michael in that moment, his purpose crystallised and divinely perfect. And so Michael had believed even as he cast his (once much loved, despite Lucifer’s wild temperament, damned eternal flippancy and his, well, _him_ -ness) brother out into darkness that his actions were just, a punishment fitting for the traitorous crime.

But now, for the first time in Michael's very, very, _very_ long existence, he is feeling the first, creeping inklings of doubt.

He doesn't like it.

He eyes his brother and the diminutive human Lucifer had so stupidly bound himself to critically.

Lucifer is animatedly running through likely ‘suspects’, citing such fiends as the Dark Lady Lilith (‘a right old hellcat, that one, wouldn't put it past her’), Baron Samedi (‘never forgave Dad for sticking him down in the Styx - get it, Dan, Styx? As in _stick_ \- oh, never mind’) and even Anubis (‘that bloody jackal’).

Michael clears his throat, feeling almost obscurely sad. ‘Aren't you missing the obvious, brother?’

Lucifer squints at him and pauses, obviously racking his brains (such as they are). ‘Oh,’ he says in surprise and Michael allows himself to hope. ‘You're thinking good ol’ Moloch.’ Lucifer looks almost impressed. ‘You're right, brother, it's clearly that malignant baby-eating toerag.’

Michael fights the urge to strike at his own head. He had seen humans do so before when under trying circumstances and it seemed to bring them some measure of comfort in their pitiful times of need. ‘No, brother,’ he says in a fair approximation of patience. ‘I meant… Mother.’

Something flashes across Lucifer’s face, almost too quickly for Michael to decipher. It does not look like shock. Lucifer averts his gaze and scoffs slightly too loudly for Michael to credit. ‘Mum? Don't be ridiculous, Michael.’

Michael raises an eyebrow. ‘Ridiculous? From my understanding, not only did she initiate three major cataclysms prior to her exile to Hell but has caused no end of trouble for you since her arrival on this plane.’

In profile, Michael sees Lucifer’s jaw clench but his brother remains unusually quiet. It occurs to Michael abruptly that this poisonous notion of their Mother being at fault has almost certainly struck Lucifer - and plainly pains him. Michael feels a rare pang of sympathy. However that does not alter what needs to be done.

He crosses his arms and says, voice purposefully cold. ‘We must confront her.’

To his surprise, Lucifer looks reluctant. ‘That's not a good idea.’

Michael frowns, hands falling to grip the table. ‘Not a good idea? Lucifer, we must investigate this. If Mother is behind the release of the Plague-’

Lucifer interjects sharply, mouth tight and eyes holding a strange brittle light. ‘Then she planned my - enslavement. She planned this _all_. But I don't think she did, Michael.’

Michael laughs harshly. ‘Lucifer, be serious. You know what she is. She was so wicked Father Himself had her banished surely-’

Lucifer cuts across him. ‘What, like He did me? Clearly, Dad's judgement isn't all that, Michael. I've always said the old man's going senile.’

Michael automatically snarls a warning at his brother who lifts his chin defiantly, as though Michael doesn't know that if Lucifer had still had his wings - if he hadn't been so damn stupid to have ordered his filthy demon to hack them off like so much refuse - they would be folded tightly against his back in fear.

The female human - Decker - clears her throat and steps between them with either great presumption or bravery. Michael favours the former.

‘Okay,’ she speaks warily, ‘why don't we take a break? We need to track this hair you said, so let’s - and I can't believe I'm saying this - work your magic on it.’

Michael nods grudgingly. ‘A good plan. Once we've traced the hair we will prove our Mother's guilt beyond all doubt.’

He ignores Lucifer’s impotent glower. ‘What do we need?’

Decker stares at him. ‘I assumed you would know.’

Michael shrugs, ignoring the humans’ puzzlement. ‘My brother has always been more versed in spellwork,’ he snorts. ‘Where else do you think this idiocy with the enchantment sprung from?’

Lucifer spares him a glare. ‘Just for that you're fetching and carrying, brother dearest.’

-

Michael grudgingly fetches and carries. Myrrh from Palestine, gold from Egypt, fresh thyme and hellebore from the Indus and ice still frozen from the mounts of Reykjavik. He delivers them all into his brother's impatient hands.

His brother's _master_ , ‘Daniel’ - a disgrace to that name, Michael is sure - helps Lucifer prepare and Michael watches him like a hawk, awaiting even one mistake for an excuse to tear the filthy goat-breeder to shreds.

He doesn't need to wait long.

The fiend has his paws practically all over his brother, a hand at his back whence his fair wings once sprung, another brushing Lucifer’s graceful hands. Michael may have borne that, after all Lucifer’s obsession with the affairs of the flesh are unfortunately well known to him but then the damned creature has the sheer wicked audacity to _order_ Lucifer openly before him.

Lucifer had informed them he was going to retrieve some strange creature he termed a ‘cool ranch puff’ and a drink for sustenance - which he is apparently weak enough to require now, Michael notes with eternal disgust - when the degenerate scum he calls a master _orders_ Lucifer to fetch him one too, as though Lucifer were naught but the man's plaything.

And Lucifer - Lucifer just nods and obeys, like he is utterly under the brute’s sway, as though he hadn't spent every iota of his existence flaunting his disregard for Michael's orders, for _Father's_ orders, over millennia.

The table cracks under Michael's hands as his brother quietly retreats through the door, leaving the two of them alone, Decker having departed to ‘take a call’ earlier.

The human’s head snaps to Michael and grows pale as if only now grasping the folly of his wanton cruelty. Michael wonders what else this maggot has forced his stubborn, wilful, _fair_ brother to do.

He stalks over to the worm, who stands as though frozen before Michael's might. As is right. Michael should have him on his knees.

The creature swallows and opens his mouth, no doubt to lie or beg mercy. As though Michael would show one such as he _mercy_.

‘Oh god. I'm - I didn't mean to.’

Michael snorts at his pathetically transparent attempts to obfuscate his crimes. ‘You didn't mean to - what? Be specific, boy. You didn't mean to compel my brother? To treat him as you would your dog?’

He crowds him and is pleased when the fool backs away into a wall. His voice raises almost against his will. ‘You didn't mean to take away his freedom? To destroy his _life_? What,’ he says in a snarl, hand falling about the hilt of his blade, ‘precisely is it you ‘didn't mean’ to do?’

And the human quakes before Michael's wrath, but, to Michael's surprise, stands his ground.

The man's voice is shaken, hoarse when he speaks but his grey gaze meets Michael's. ‘All of it. Any of it. I never _wanted_ this.’

Michael scoffs furiously. ‘Do not presume to lie to me! I know what lives in men's hearts, how cruel, how greedy your kind are. And I have seen the way you watch my brother, the way your,’ his mouth tightens in disgust, ‘eyes and hands _linger_. You desire him. Do you dare deny it?’

The man flinches, just slightly, before squaring his shoulders and saying defensively, ‘Dude, _everyone_ desires Lucifer. It's his superpower.’

As any skilled warrior, Michael is aware of how cowards use misdirect in order to distract from the final blow. He steps forward, pushing the man flat against the wall. ‘That is indeed so- you admit it.’

His wings spring loose from where they have been sheathed on this mortal plane. The feeling of freedom makes a calm wave slide through his current form. If anything, it makes him deadlier - he knows his duty.

‘This attraction,’ he spits, cool words to parry against the man’s growing terror, ‘is it why you tricked my brother into slavery?’

The worm squirms, trying to get away, but he is an insect beside Michael’s strength. Michael braces his hands against the wall, trapping the man before him, and fanning out his wings.

The current space is not big enough for them, so he crooks his wing bones slightly and allows the wingtips to splay.

‘Do you see these wings?’ he asks, conversationally. ‘They are wings that have brought cities to ruin. The greatest weapon my Father has given me.’

As fast as a whip - or so it must seem to the rodent before him - his right wing springs forward so that one tip rests against the rat’s face.

‘They are weapons. Limbs for flight, but weapons, nonetheless, just as my fists. Do you see?’

The man is gasping for air now, though Michael has made no movement to constrict his breathing. ‘Do you see how sharp each feather is?’

Sadly, Daniel’s eyes have glazed, so Michael flicks his wing back behind him, armed so that it may be used at any moment to slice into the man’s flesh. He rocks backwards on his heels and slams both of his fists against the laboratory wall, such that the plaster breaks under the force.

The worm makes a small keening noise, but Michael disregards it. ‘As sharp as those feathers are, my Father has equipped me with something much more deadly.’ He rocks backward again, sliding his fists from the indents they have made in the wall, and moves his dominant hand to the pommel of his secondary weapon.

The light of God shines brightly when he pulls the sword from its sheath, wrapping his supportive hand beneath the primary on the grip. Bright flames the colour of sunlight curl and wind around the blade, moving in an endless dance.

‘My father gifted me with this blade,’ he informs Daniel, eyes following the movement of the light, and tracking Daniel peripherally. ‘It was made in the forges of heaven by my hand. My brother Lucifer lent his light to the blade so that the glory of heaven would forever be imbued in its metal.’

He snaps his gaze away from the blade to eye Daniel directly. ‘I will use it now to avenge his slavery.’

‘Michael!’

His name on Lucifer’s lips is jarring, after all these millennia, after the Fall. He turns, to offer his brother a courteous nod. ‘Brother.’

‘What are you _doing_?’ Lucifer’s eyes have lit with hellfire again, as if the mask he wears to intimidate the damned will work against heaven’s purpose.

‘This man takes it upon himself to make _you_ his _slave_ ,’ Michael reminds him - the spell is a tricky one, and in subsuming Lucifer’s will it may possibly confuse him of his true place.

In Lucifer’s right hand are two small brightly coloured bags, and in his left he’s clutching two stacked cans of something labelled ‘Coca-Cola’. ‘I see you brought your master his sustenance.’

Lucifer’s face contorts in a snarl, and the items fall to the floor- it is only after he strides forward that Michael realises he had barely been listening. Those red eyes are fixed on the blade in Michael’s hands.

‘Put. That. _Thing_. Away.’ The voice that emanates is a hiss, like the serpent Father God pronounced him to be. Michael swings his blade around, listening as it whistles through the air, and holds it in a block.

‘You would fight me, brother? After the events of last time? I know the bond compels you to protect this man, but once I have ripped his body apart, you will thank me.’

Lucifer’s top lip pulls back and he bares ineffectual human teeth. ‘Put it away, _now_.’

Michael’s purpose is in avenging his brother. If his brother desires him to sheath his blade, then he shall. The rat will not escape his punishment, Michael is determined of that. There is always later; his brother cannot be vigilant forever and there are so many ways to break the human body. Michael is cheered at just the thought.

As easily as it was drawn, the blade is taken back by its sheath. Lucifer stoops to collect the items from the floor now that the weapon is away, and steps toward his master. ‘Oh and Michael, put those bloody wings away as well. You look ridiculous.’

Lucifer guides Daniel to one of the waiting chairs posted around the table in the center of the room, and kneels, opening one of the cans for him, _cosseting_ him. A true slave, serving his master. Only once the small bag has also been opened, does Lucifer stand and return his attention to his brother.

‘What on Earth did you think you were _doing_ , Michael?’

Michael sets his jaw. ‘I was avenging you.’ He fans his wings out behind him again, only for Lucifer to eye them briefly, unimpressed, eyes settled back to black. Michael drops his wings slightly before scowling.

‘This man presumes to order you so you must fetch his food. Not only that, but he controls your body, touches your skin. No doubt he has also laid you flat in bed and violated you. After all, you were made gloriously beautiful. Even your wings were beautiful, before you defiled yourself by cutting them off.’

Lucifer flicks his eyes in some kind of roll. A human move, if Michael has ever seen one. ‘They were even more beautiful on fire,’ he replies, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

‘However, sadly Daniel and I have not yet played around with butt stuff.’ Lucifer sighs. ‘He even refuses to have sex with me! I know,’ he says, apparently taking Michael’s expression for one of understanding, ‘he just goes on and on, blah consent blah. Honestly, he never shuts up about it!’

Michael is unswayed by what are clearly his brother’s evasions. ‘Yet he touches your back, and guides your movement. Not even I am permitted to touch your back.’ Michael’s voice comes across as more plaintive than he liked.

Lucifer’s eyes flash once more with hellfire before they return to black. ‘ _No_ ,’ he hisses. ‘Because you _broke_ it.’ He takes a threatening step forward. ‘Do you not remember how I screamed, how my wings would no longer respond to me so that when I fell I could not fly? How I pleaded with you when you carried me toward the edge of the city, until you cut me with a blade I myself had blessed, and threw me to be damned?’

‘Do you think I wished to?’ Michael’s voice was low and heavy with anger and ancient loss. ‘You had questioned, had flaunted your disobedience. Our Father had given me orders, Lucifer, and I was bound to obey.’

‘He had _not_ , you stupid oaf, as it bloody turns out. You only _thought_ he did. And isn’t that just the story of my existence - everyone knows what Father wants except _me_.’

Michael feels, just for a moment uneasy, his tension evident in the ruffling of his feathers. He crosses his arms and refuses to feel defensive. His actions were _just_. ‘Do you think I derived any joy from what you forced me to do unto you?’ His voice is sharp. ‘That your screams filled me with anything but sorrow?’

Lucifer laughs, cold and harsh. ‘Oh yes, because you looked so regretful, brother, as you stood over me and watched me Fall.’

Michael glowers. ‘Regret would imply I had a choice, Lucifer, which I did not. I am not you, dear brother, avariciously grasping at that which is not mine to desire. But, believe it or not, I did feel - unhappy with the way things ended between us.’ He hesitates and allows his stance to soften as he takes in his fallen brother, his lovely face and sharp dark eyes.

Michael lifts his chin. ‘Why do you think I wish to avenge you so greatly? Did you never pause to think how your actions, your submission to this accursed enchantment would bring grief to your family? To those who love you?’

Lucifer shakes his head, eyes seeming very bright. ‘Love me? You must be joking. Do you really expect me to fall for that?’ He licks his lips, briefly looking away before surging into Michael's space. ‘You _destroyed_ me Michael,’ he hisses. ‘You showed me absolutely no mercy, even when I begged for it.’ He laughs and looks away, face pale.

‘You know, that first long millennium in Hell, when dear old Dad literally had me chained to the bloody throne to make sure I didn't get any bright ideas about heading home, I called for you.’

His gaze fixes on Michael's, almost eerily penetrating. Michael feels tense and on edge, as though he requires air though he does not, his wings automatically sheathing back into his form. ‘I called and called and _screamed_. For you. For our brothers. Even,’ his voice chokes, ‘Dad.’

He stops and seems to take several deep breaths before he looks at Michael. ‘It took me awhile - I was so _naïve_ back then - but eventually I realised you were never coming. No-one was.’

He steps back, eyes wide, expression almost lost. ‘So don't talk to me about _love_.’ His voice is hushed in the room.

For a moment Michael is quiet, the only sounds in the room, the faint, uneven huffs of the maggot’s breath in the corner, then the door opens and Decker steps in, expression shocked as she takes in the sheer amount of damage done to the room - and its occupants - in her absence.

‘What the _hell_ happened here? I was only gone ten minutes!’

-

The spell is an utter failure as far as Chloe can tell.

The divining rod - they end up using Michael's sword for this, much to the brothers’ mutual obvious disdain - just spins around aimlessly like a compass needle over a magnet.

Lucifer eyes it in complete contempt before turning to his brother. ‘I told you we should have used one of Maze’s daggers.’

Michael scoffs from the wall of the lab, where he still stands bracketed between two large fist-shaped indents he'd put there, white plaster cascading down like wings on either side of his shoulders. ‘And I told you that I'd sooner impale myself on my own blade than touch anything associated with that disgusting hellspawn.’ He sniffs, looking deeply disgusted. ‘How our brother bears to touch her, even Fallen as he is, eludes me.’

Lucifer snorts and mutters under his breath, ‘oh, I doubt he's getting much touching in these days. Mazikeen always turns a great cold shoulder.’

He sighs. ‘Well, in any case at least we proved it wasn't Mum.’

Michael eyes him. ‘How?’ He asks bluntly. ‘She could be working via an intermediary. She could be evading the spell. This test proves nothing.’ He pauses and adds with more tact than Dan’s still pale face or the holes in the wall would indicate he possessed. ‘I'm sorry, Lucifer. I am aware you do not wish to believe our Mother capable of such a deed.’ His voice sharpens. ‘But she is and it is best you remember that.’ So much for tact.

At Lucifer’s grim and deliberately dismissive silence, Michael sighs. He suddenly looks much older than his apparent middle age. ‘I will gather my forces and investigate.’ He turns to Chloe and tells her almost chivalrously, ‘I promise we shall do our utmost to hunt down and contain this threat.’

Chloe crosses her arms and retorts, ‘we will too.’

He regards her as though puzzled before noticeably dismissing her from his thoughts. He turns to his brother and regards him. ‘Do you not wish to fare me well in my mission, brother?’

Lucifer grunts by way of reply, head still bowed over the spell bowl. Michael sighs before straightening his tunic and fiddling with his sword, almost as though nervous. At last he looks up and stares at Lucifer, blue gaze for an instant, Chloe thinks, regretful.

‘Oh and Lucifer?’

‘What.’ Lucifer’s shoulders are hunched and he looks exhausted.

‘I realise that you may not believe this, but you are my brother. I do- love you. Past, present and future. I cannot do otherwise.’

And with that and a mighty flap of his wings, he's gone.


	27. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Chloe want to have a Conversation(™). Lucifer does not. Guess who prevails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit late! Freshly re-written due to a stray plot element. :D
> 
> This chapter is a bit Angsty McAngstface from Angstville, Angstylvannia but fluff* is definitely around the corner. :P
> 
> Thank you for all your amazing comments! :D They give your friendly co-authors life (or at least the will to keep typing). :P
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> *Terms and conditions apply: All fluff must be accompanied by a modicum of angst at all times. Unaccompanied fluff will be swiftly removed from the premises.

‘Daddy!’

‘Hey there, monkey!’

Chloe’s apartment is bright and golden in the afternoon sun. Dan picks up Trixie and swings her onto his hip with a wince. She's getting too big for this and soon he’ll have to stop but after this morning, after nearly _dying_ at the hands (and wings and _sword_ ) of an outraged archangel, he desperately wants to have his daughter as close as possible.

Part of him is extremely glad that Maze is off on another bounty hunt, even given Lucifer’s bout of light laughter two days ago when he’d discovered a series of explosions that had happened in Sacramento and put Maze’s name to them (‘you know Maze, Daniel, always up for a _bang_ ’). Yeah, he has enough other-worldly individuals with Lucifer alone.

Chloe drops her keys in the bowl on the table while Lucifer loiters near the front door as if hoping to escape either Dan, the coming conversation, or Trixie. Dan wishes him luck with all of the above given the glower on Chloe’s face and the beam on Trix’s as she wriggles out of Dan's grip. ‘Lucifer!’

Lucifer yelps as Trixie collides with him, bony arms flinging out to wind around his narrow waist.

His dark eyes dart up helplessly to meet Dan's and he looks panicked. Even more than he usually does at Trix’s well-meaning assaults.

Frazzled as Dan’s nerves are from _meeting_ Lucifer’s big brother (god, very big brother) it takes Dan a moment or two to realise why. Oh shit. He nods hesitant permission. Lucifer doesn't exactly look more comfortable with Dan’s kid hanging off of him, but he does look less on edge. He even cautiously pats Trixie once on the head, no doubt in the naive hope it would satisfy her need for hugs.

Chloe stands in the island of her kitchen watching - almost exactly where Lucifer had once knelt and enacted the damn spell weeks ago - expression tinged with sadness.

Eventually, Dan decides to have mercy and liberates Lucifer from the clutches from the snuggle monkey. ‘Honey, why don't you go work on your homework?’ 

He ignores her pout as she reluctantly scampers off to her room with a bright, ‘Bye, Lucifer!’

Lucifer straightens his cuffs as she leaves, and eyes Chloe and Dan as though he's considering following after her to escape the oncoming conversation.

Chloe sets down her mug and eyes him. ‘Lucifer,’ she says tentatively, ‘why don't you sit down? I think we need to talk.’

Lucifer looks like he deeply disagrees and edges back towards the door. ‘As lovely - and ominous - as that sentence sounds, I'm afraid I'll pass. Have to attend to something at Lux, wash my hair, feed the cat, you know how it is.’

Chloe sighs. ‘You don't have a cat, Lucifer.’ She says in a tone of long-suffering patience.

Lucifer is undeterred. ‘Then acquiring one is yet another thing on my busy itinerary today.’ He grimaces. ‘Even if they are horrible, arrogant balls of fur and wickedness.’

Chloe snorts into her mug. ‘Nothing like you then.’

Lucifer nods, oblivious. ‘Exactly!’ His hand snakes out to fumble at the door handle, ‘So if you'll excuse me, I have a fleabag to adopt and an age-old phobia to overcome so-’

Dan interrupts as the door snicks open. ‘Lucifer.’

Lucifer’s hand freezes and his eyes swing down to the floor. Dan feels ancient.

He softens his tone. ‘Lucifer, I'm not ordering you, but would you - could you please come and sit down with us?’ He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘If you're willing,’ he adds. He tries to catch Lucifer’s downcast gaze. ‘Please? I think we all need to - debrief.’

Lucifer grimaces but reluctantly shuts the door. ‘Debriefing is usually a whole lot more fun,’ he grumbles. ‘Not that you'd know.’

With poor grace he drags his feet back to the counter and claims a seat - the same one, thinks Dan with a stab of pain, where he'd sat just mere month ago while they'd negotiated back some of his freedom.

Lucifer avoids their eyes and drums his fingers agitatedly on the counter. ‘Well?’ He says. ‘Let's get this over with.’

Dan hesitantly takes the chair next to him. ‘Get what over with?’

Lucifer scowls at him as though Dan's being cute. ‘Oh, we're going through this again, are we? Fine, you want me to enumerate my crimes? I mislead you. Deliberately. I kept... secrets. My idiot brother nearly killed you because he's an overgrown nitwit.’ He glowers at Dan, but his eyes drop to encompass the thin reddened line of Dan's cheek where not one hour ago Michael's razor sharp wingtips had pressed.

Chloe starts. ‘Michael did what?’

Lucifer swallows and looks away. ‘Got it into his Neanderthalic skull to become all over-protective and threatened to put Daniel to his bloody flaming sword. As though he ever cared at all about my fate.’ His tone is sharp but his expression looks distant and hurt.

He then squares his shoulders and turns to face Dan, who has a sudden bad feeling about where this is going.

‘So just get it over with. You must be angry. What are you waiting for? _Punish me_.’

Dan swallows and is horribly aware of Chloe standing aghast across the island from him and Trix in the next room, of Lucifer’s eyes boring down as though into his very soul. He wonders what it says about him as a person that Lucifer remains so certain that Dan has just been waiting for an opportunity to hurt him.

He clears his throat and leans forward, dropping his voice, pretending not to notice Lucifer’s minute flinch.

‘Lucifer,’ he says, voice strangled. ‘We've talked about this. I'm not going to punish you. I'm never going to do that.’

Lucifer snorts, looking highly sceptical. ‘Yes, so you keep saying.’ He eyes first Dan, then Chloe, and seems to realise something. Dan hopes it's that Dan is telling him truth but somehow he doubts he’s that lucky. 

To Dan’s confusion, Lucifer nods at him surreptitiously, as though they're in on a secret, and leans back faux-casually. ‘Right,’ he says. He shifts awkwardly. ‘Nice talk, so glad we had it. May I go now?’

Chloe sets down her mug and reaches out to hold Lucifer’s hand. For a very brief second his eyes dart to Dan as though nervous, but he doesn't withdraw his hand from under hers.

Dan watches, pained and _relieved_ , as Chloe takes the lead. She’s the best person to get through to Lucifer, he thinks, has always had a way of reaching right to the heart of things, of piercing Lucifer’s emotional armour when she needed to. Whereas Dan - well. Sometimes Dan thinks all he does is make things worse. 

Chloe is gentle but firm as she holds Lucifer’s hand, catching his eyes with hers. Lucifer swallows, face open and raw as she says softly, ‘Lucifer, we need to talk about the bond.’

Lucifer frowns, eyes falling to rest on their joined hands. ‘That boring old thing? Whatever for?’

Chloe sighs and her hand grips his slightly tighter. ‘Lucifer, what your brother said-’

Lucifer interrupts. ‘What, Michael? Oh that moron says all sorts of idiotic things. I wouldn't dwell on it if I were you.’

Dan shifts, wincing as Lucifer’s eyes swing to him, obviously on high alert. ‘You said you mislead me. At Lux your brother mentioned something about the- the natural course of this thing.’ He pauses, swallowing dryly. ‘Lucifer, he said that this thing would... destroy you. Get worse. Is that true?’

Lucifer licks his lips and replies, ‘Well, ‘destroy’ is such a harsh word, isn’t it?’ He is painfully - _obviously_ \- evasive, and Dan's stomach clenches. Across from him, he can see Chloe’s face, tight with worry.

‘Lucifer,’ he says quietly, almost helplessly. ‘He said over time you would... lose yourself. That my ‘will’ would override yours.’

Lucifer shrugs in a good approximation of carelessness. ‘Doesn't it already?’

Dan sits back, feeling numb. ‘So it's true?’

After a moment he catches Lucifer’s slow, tight nod.

‘Oh god,’ says Chloe faintly.

Lucifer scowls down at their hands, trailing his thumb slowly, almost obsessively over her knuckles. ‘There’s no need for that, Detective,’ he remonstrates. He sighs and shifts uncomfortably on the barstool. ‘I don't know why you two are so worked up over this,’ he says to their horrified expressions. ‘We all knew this thing was permanent. Did either of you really think it was going to get _better_ over time?’

Dan shakes his head, feeling empty. ‘There's a difference between adjusting to this thing and living with it, knowing that it's going to- going to take away everything that makes you _you_ , man. That it's going to take away your _mind_.’

Lucifer looks nonplussed. ‘Why?’ He asks, brow furrowed. He leans back and stares at Dan, gaze sharp. ‘It already _has_ , Daniel - from the very moment I knelt and incanted the spell.’ He stands abruptly, agitated. ‘Your will is mine, Daniel. From the very first you felt I was behaving oddly. Lucifer is gone, Detectives.’

-

The horrified silence that follows this pronouncement is suddenly broken by the sound of Trixie’s door opening, and their daughter comes running out, face bright and beaming.

‘Uh-oh,’ she says, coming to a dead stop when she catches the looks on her parent’s faces. Her smile fades. Always so quick on the uptake, Dan thinks, torn between pride and sadness, always able to read a room just as well as her mother. ‘Is Lucifer in trouble?’

Lucifer snorts. ‘Probably.’

Trixie eyes them all with keen dark eyes, tiny hands clutching at a colourful drawing of what looks suspiciously like a cartoon Devil. Chloe turns to her, troubled and trying to hide it.

‘No, Monkey,’ she says. ‘Why do you think he’s in trouble?’

Trixie fidgets with the drawing in her hands, gaze flicking between them, watchful. ‘Because you and Daddy have that look on your face when I’m in trouble.’

‘Well, he’s not in trouble,’ Chloe reassures her, ignoring Lucifer’s disbelieving snort, before wisely changing the topic. ‘What’s that?’

Trixie looks dubious for a moment before obviously deciding to take Chloe’s word for it and bouncing forward. ‘It’s a drawing of Lucifer!’

Chloe picks her up so that she’s at eye-level with the rest of the adults at the table, and Trixie wriggles a little until she has enough space to spread her drawing out.

It’s a picture, very obviously of Lucifer, _haute couture_ suit neatly realised in colour pencil. She’s even put in a little red pocket square to go with cheerfully illustrated red eyes. Cartoon Lucifer has a pitchfork in one hand, and, in the other, he is holding hands with Dan, while a cartoon Chloe holds Dan’s other hand, beaming. 

On top of Lucifer’s head, a pair of cute little pink horns protrude over curly black hair. 

It’s simultaneously the most terrifying and touching thing Dan has ever seen.

‘Well,’ he ventures after a long nonplussed silence from the three of them, ‘it’s very accurate.’ Numbly, he thinks they probably need to have a talk with Trixie at some point about his _relationship_ with Lucifer. Or not. Yeah, they can probably put that off - maybe even for a few decades. 

He pauses as a thought occurs to him and his head snaps up to stare at Lucifer. ‘You didn’t show her your face, did you? You know,’ he coughs pointedly, ‘the _other_ one?’ He make an aborted wiggly hand gesture behind Trixie’s back, trying to convey _red_ and _terrifying_.

‘Of course not,’ Lucifer scoffs. ‘The child is just far more quick-witted than you, Daniel. Not that that’s a _high_ bar,’ he mutters ignoring Dan’s exasperated look. 

‘Do you like it, Lucifer?’ Trixie spins the portrait around so that it’s upright for Lucifer and beams at him expectantly.

Lucifer looks entirely unimpressed. He opens his mouth, no doubt to insult Trixie, her art - and let’s face it, probably Dan - before fortunately catching sight of Chloe’s preemptive glare. 

He sighs as though deeply put upon and gingerly takes the picture. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose so’ he huffs, eyeing the butcher’s paper like it might be about to bite him. ‘Very good, child. Very...’ his eyes travel sceptically across the bright - and clashing - colours, ‘...impressionistic.’

He gifts Dan with an insincere smirk. ‘You must be so proud.’ 

Now, Dan knows that Lucifer is his friend and he loves him, really - like, platonically, obviously, like a brother, oh wait maybe not like a brother... oh nevermind - but sometimes he just wants to punch him in the mouth. Just a bit. 

‘I am, yeah,’ he retorts, staring him down. 

Lucifer smirks back at him across Trixie’s little head, the dick, just an everyday bit of Dan-baiting as _freaking usual_. With a jolt, Dan feels abruptly grateful to see him smiling again, a sign of the dark mood that had come across them lifting. 

As though sensing this too, Trixie beams and runs off to stick the drawing on the wall with her other ‘artwork’. (Yeah, okay, Dan may be her dad and thus automatically adores anything she produces but he acknowledges she’s not freaking _Picasso_. I mean come on - she’s _nine_ ). 

‘I thought you didn’t lie,’ Chloe says lightly to Lucifer, a teasing grin playing on her lips.

Lucifer huffs. ‘Well,’ he concedes, ‘a minor little white fib never harmed anyone - unless it’s about Dan’s hideous shirts not being hideous, of course.’ He ignores Dan’s ‘hey’. 

‘Besides,’ Lucifer adds. ‘It was…’ he looks away, a little awkwardly, eyes absently tracking Trix carefully sticking the drawing to the wall with - hey, is that super glue? _Freaking_ Maze. 

‘Sweet,’ Lucifer finishes, uneasily. ‘Not unkind of your offspring to make me feel… included.’ He fidgets under their gaze, apparently uncomfortable with the sentiment. 

Dan stares at him, feeling something like an ache in his chest at Lucifer, sitting, expression soft and a little lost, beside him. Although he is barely inches from Dan he feels distant, unreachable. Dan’s fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, to touch him, but the revelations of the day, the heaviness of their conversation earlier weighs on him the way he imagines that screwed up collar weighs on Lucifer.

The silence extends for a moment, before Chloe speaks, voice gentle. If Dan didn’t love her already, he reflects, he would for that alone. 

‘Right. Okay,’ she takes an unsteady breath. ‘How about we have dinner, then.’ She smiles at them and Dan smiles back, relieved, but Lucifer... is scowling. He moves to grab his suit jacket, no doubt intending to flee.

Dan frowns. ‘Hey, no. Where are you going?’

Lucifer freezes, already halfway to the door. In profile, Dan can see his jaw clench. ‘Out,’ he snaps. ‘If that's alright with you, _sir_.’

Dan flinches but holds his ground. ‘Come on, man,’ he retorts, all the worry and fear from the day, from the _months_ bubbling up and turning to frustration. Every time - _every time_ they try to do this, try to have an adult conversation about _any_ of this, Lucifer just evades, or distracts or _runs off_ to freaking _Vegas_. Would it kill him to just rest? To allow them to be with him and comfort him for once? 

‘When was the last time you ate?’ Snaps Dan. ‘Not since breakfast at my place, right?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘Just - just come on. Stay and have dinner.’ It comes out almost as plea. 

Lucifer’s face contorts sourly but he obediently swings around and dumps his jacket back down on the table. ‘What happened to not giving me any orders, Daniel?’ His eyes are sharp and dangerous. Bitter.

Dan’s eyes widen and he swallows almost convulsively at screwing up _once again_. Then he frowns, taking in Lucifer looking drawn and exhausted in front of him. Had he always looked that thin, that drained? Is it the bond taking its toll on him or is it the constant stress, the push-pull between them all? The constant damn power struggles? 

Dan’s not sure he can remember the last time he saw Lucifer relaxed. Maybe not since he’d told Dan, eyes bright and shining, that Chloe had accepted him, _all_ of him, all those months ago. Thinking of Lucifer, of Chloe, as they were then in that moment, warm and vibrant and _in love_ , Dan aches. 

But here they are now, Lucifer glaring at him, bitter and _tired_ , Chloe face pinched and - god, _grieving_ beside them, mourning the loss of Lucifer’s freedom, his future just even as Dan is. 

Dan takes a ragged breath and crosses his arms. ‘It's for your own good,’ he retorts, that ache in his chest sharpening to something hurt and worried. ‘You're going to waste away at this rate. Lucifer - you’re going to-’

He stops. He doesn’t know what he was going to say there. Die? Break? Michael’s words from back at the penthouse haunt him, the thought of _losing_ Lucifer-

Oblivious to Dan’s dark thoughts, Lucifer glares. ‘I’m the Devil, Daniel, I don’t need to eat,’ he snaps, looking irritated and jaded. ‘For my own good,’ he mutters, sounding surprisingly sullen. ‘Like I haven’t heard one that before.’

Dan squares his jaw, unwilling to give in and let Lucifer just leave them, _now_ of all times. ‘Look, you keep saying I'm your-’ he drops his voice, wary of Trixie’s presence on just the other side of the room. ‘-Master. So if I'm meant to- to,’ he swallows helpless and bitter, ‘control you and be used to hurt you by this damn thing, some good might as well come out of it. I'm going to try to take care of you too.’

Lucifer raises his eyebrows looking highly sceptical but also less like he's about to kill Dan, which Dan is going to go ahead and think of as a win. 

To his side, Chloe eyes them both warily. ‘Okay,’ she says, cautiously, ‘how about we fix up dinner then get to bed?’

Lucifer snorts both giving them both a false smile. ‘Yes, whyever not? Now there's a good plan! Food then sexy times, ménage à trois style, Lucifer likes.’ He turns to Chloe, smile a tad too bright, almost mocking. ‘Always knew you were the bright one in your marriage, Detective.’ 

Dan watches as, at Chloe’s hurt frown, Lucifer’s gaze skitters away, bitter smile fading.

Dan frowns at them, shifting uncomfortably. He wishes he knew why Lucifer would always do this - always lash out at them the moment either of them tried to actually show him they _cared_. Maybe he should speak to his therapist. 

‘Yeah, that's not happening,’ he says sharply. ‘Lucifer, you know we can’t- it would be _wrong_ ,’ he says with grim conviction. ‘Even if I wanted to.’ Which he _doesn’t_ obviously despite Lucifer’s - well. Despite Lucifer. 

Lucifer scoffs before eyeing him disdainfully. ‘But I thought you wanted to take _care_ of me, Daniel? What better way than the greatest act of intimacy Dad ever invented?’ He smiles, eyes dark and challenging. 

Dan sighs and scrubs his face with one hand, abruptly exhausted. His whole body still aches from getting the celestial freaking shovel talk from the _alleged_ ‘angel of mercy’ and that sensation of loss and disquiet regarding the bond gnaws at something inside of him like a cancer.

‘There are other kinds of intimacy, Lucifer.’ He says eventually, voice soft. ‘Some of which you might even be able to consent to.’

Lucifer snorts bitterly. ‘Really? You’re looking out for my virtue? How sweet of you, Master.’

Dan can’t help but flinch at that. Then he catches Lucifer’s eyes. He thinks he sees something like regret flash across his face. 

‘Okay,’ Chloe says loudly, before either of them can get in another word. She looks pointedly at Trixie, who, picture now (probably permanently, great) fixed on the wall, hops back towards them.

Chloe manages a wonky smile and her hand fall to rest on Trixie’s narrow shoulders. 

‘What are we having for dinner?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just constructed a tumblr for writing purposes. If you want to see behind the scenes stuff (mostly just screen shots of Erya being funny and accrues making muffled screaming noises)/some fun Lucifer stuff, add away! (Currently under construction @[wellwewrite](https://wellwewrite.tumblr.com/).)


	28. Tale as Old as Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decker-Espinoza dinner and a movie, plus the Devil. It’s a tale as old as time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late! (Erya’s fault - she’s started a new job and we think they’re trying to kill her.) 
> 
> Please have some apology fluff/angst for your reading pleasure. :D
> 
> Thank you for your amazing comments! Enjoy!

They're having ‘Taco Tuesday’ even though it's a Thursday. Something that seems to thrill and baffle the excitable spawn in near equal measure.

Lucifer watches from his designated spot at the bench while the Detective and Daniel arrange the ingredients and assemble their ‘meal’.

He had, of course, attempted to take over the menial task only for Daniel to scowl at him and order him to his seat to relax. Lucifer isn't sure what he's done wrong but he almost wishes he'd let Michael gut the man now. It couldn’t have been more awkward than sitting at the Detective’s kitchen, watching her family and feeling like an intruder.

As Chloe and Daniel serve up the food on the table to a delighted spawn and unimpressed Lucifer, Daniel casually orders Lucifer to sit down. Lucifer grits his teeth and stands, preparing to kneel and humiliate himself the way his Master no doubt intends when Daniel’s sharp grey eyes abruptly widen and he holds up a hasty hand. ‘On the chair,’ he all but yelps. ‘I mean, why don't you sit down on a chair at the table and eat with us?’

Lucifer squints at him suspiciously but complies, tensing as the brat hops into the chair beside his. ‘We're having tacos!’ she informs Lucifer brightly, as though they hadn't just spent half an hour of Lucifer’s existence watching the painstaking process of taco assembly.

He eyes her warily. ‘Yes. Well observed, child.’

Chloe snorts as she slides into her chair opposite them, Dan dropping exhaustedly onto his beside her.

Lucifer feels a bit as though he and the child are being interrogated, trapped as they are on the other side of the rickety table.

Dan seems amused by something as he casually, peremptorily, pours Lucifer some orange juice. ‘Shall we say grace?’ He clearly thinks he's being witty but the twin glares from Lucifer and Chloe seem to disabuse him of this delusion. Unfortunately however, the child seizes on the notion because she is impressionable and presumably has the misfortune of being related to Daniel.

‘I'll do it,’ she chirps and, before anyone can stop her, reaches out to grab Lucifer’s hand and her mother's.

Lucifer eyes the hand, still as bewildered as ever that the child should want to touch him in any manner.

The Detective, perhaps concerned about Lucifer’s mild discomfort, tries to intervene. ‘Trixie, monkey, maybe you should let Lucifer go.’

But Lucifer interrupts her. ‘It's fine,’ he finds himself saying, almost to his own surprise. ‘No trouble.’

This earns him a small smile that makes his heart doing something odd and fluttery in his chest. Then she closes her eyes and prayer and Lucifer is left to the mercies of the spawn.  Said imp peeks open one dark eye and scowls at her father. ‘You're not doing it right, Dad! You hafta hold Lucifer’s hand too.’

Under her wrathful gaze Daniel hesitates before stretching out a hand. He looks at Lucifer. ‘You don't need to, man-’

Lucifer interjects. ‘It's fine,’ he repeats, tone clipped, and rests his own hand palm up on the table, awaiting his Master’s touch.

Daniel's hand is warm and gentle when it tentatively closes around Lucifer’s. It feels almost entrancingly pleasant, a sharp contrast to the spawn’s sticky, tiny paw.

Lucifer follows the child's lead and shuts his eyes tightly. In the darkness of the back of his eyelids everything feels more vibrant and vivid. The spicy scent of the salsa, the sensation of Daniel’s hand gripping his, the sound of Lucifer’s heart beating in his chest. The spawn’s voice seems to vibrate through the air like the hum of seraphim wings.

‘Dear God,’ she starts, oblivious to Lucifer’s grimace. ‘Thanks for the tacos even though it's Thursday and for Mum and Dad being home. Thanks for my new Molly ballerina ninja chemist astronaut model and for Lucifer being here to eat with us.’

And that, apparently, is that. Lucifer blinks his eyes open as his hands are freed and watches bemused as the spawn devours its meal like a ravening hellhound. It's mildly nauseating and definitely off-putting, however, Dan is eyeing him so Lucifer reluctantly picks up his taco and takes a ginger bite.

It's surprisingly not awful and Lucifer finds himself taking another bite, then another, abruptly peckish. He lets the chatter of the Decker-Espinoza household waft around him as he chews. It's not unpleasant and after a while, he takes a second taco and gradually - tentatively - relaxes, seemingly undisturbed and left to enjoy his meal.

-

After dinner, Lucifer expects to be released and allowed to return to the relative safety of Lux - or, in the unlikely event that the Detective and his Master have reconsidered their strange aversion to shared nighttime diversions, to be led to the bedroom. Neither happens.

Instead, Chloe puts on a DVD for the spawn and insists they all retire to her sofa for ‘family time’. Lucifer doesn't really see how he qualifies, but given Daniel’s sharp gaze he comprehends that he is clearly expected to attend regardless.

The Detective sprawls onto the sofa, the child in her lap. Daniel seems to hesitate as he takes a spot next to her. ‘Take a seat, man.’

His eyes widen and he seems about to amend his order when Lucifer sits at his feet, legs crossed as though in meditation.

The bond nags at him, clearly wishing for him to kneel as is appropriate for his status, but Lucifer will be - ha - damned if he kneels in front of the Detective and spawn without a direct order. And after the events of their ill-fated movie night, he somehow doubts the man will insist. He leans back slightly and is rewarded by Dan's leg warm and reassuring at his back.

There is a tense, awkward silence, before the offspring bounds off her mother's lap and sits down next to him on the ground much to Lucifer’s surprise. She hands him a pillow. ‘For your butt,’ she offers brightly. Lucifer eyes her in confusion.

As the pre-movie warnings and titles run and the Detective rises to fetch popcorn the child whispers to him, ‘Are you okay, Lucifer?’ Lucifer regards her in silent consternation. Is asking awkward, persistent questions a genetic trait? If so, Daniel has a great deal to answer for.

At his expression, the child has the temerity to pat him on the arm in what she clearly believes is a comforting manner before jumping up and running to her room.

A moment later she races back and produces a small, hideous fluffy toy bat, thrusting it in Lucifer’s face. ‘I brought Mr Tinkles,’ she proclaims nonsensically. ‘He always used to make me feel better when I was little and was sad.’ She looks at him, painfully earnest.

Lucifer eyes ‘Mr Tinkles’ dubiously. ‘Oh? And how did he do that?’

The brat giggles at him. ‘You hug him, silly!’

Lucifer snorts, noting the sticky patches of hair and one missing eye disdainfully. ‘I'd rather not,’ before catching Daniel watching him. Lucifer sighs and accepts the ragged thing. ‘Thank you,’ he adds with poor grace. 

‘You're welcome,’ chirps the spawn, beaming, before - to his disgust, burrowing into his side. Lucifer catches the Detective’s snort behind him as she resumes her seat.

He scowls as the creature next to him assures him, ‘You'll love this movie. Mom and me do!’

‘I do,’ corrects Lucifer absently.

The child twists and regards him. ‘Oh, you've seen it. It's great, isn't it?’

And then she settles back and snuggles her little warm face up against his arm, completely oblivious to the way he rolls his eyes in exasperation.

-

Lucifer doesn't _hate_  the movie.

It's a rather appealing musical animation all told, purportedly about a monstrous Beast; chained and hideously deformed, feared and hated by all for one mistake made decades hence, and the kind, strong-willed human woman he finds himself to be in love with.

Despite himself, Lucifer empathises.

He watches, engrossed, as the brutal, wicked maggot (who he envisions as like Michael) rallies the dimwitted bloodthirsty mob to lynch the Beast with torches and pitchforks, and shudders. It is a terrible thing to be hunted and so despised, and he fears they will butcher the Beast - or worse slay the bold, compassionate woman who stands against them in misguided defence of the creature.

Beside him, the spawn seems to sense his tension because she leans close and whispers, ‘Don’t be scared Lucifer, it'll be okay. I promise.’

Lucifer wishes that were true, he really does.

In the end, the mob doesn't slay the Beast. The heroine saves the day, the creature is transformed from a terrifying, wretched monster to a fair human man, and they all live happily ever after.

Lucifer is happy for the Beast but feels despondent, fully aware that his own fate could not be more dissimilar.

The spawn is nearly asleep beside him, resting her head on his shoulder with frankly depressing levels of childish trust.

Lucifer almost sneezes as her hair tickles at his sensitive nose. The Detective and Daniel had risen a moment ago to clear up, Daniel glaring at Lucifer as he attempted to rise to help, ordering him to stay down and relax.

The douche seems to have really embraced the need to order Lucifer about if it's ‘for his own good’ and Lucifer worries about where this slippery slope may lead. There are so many torments, humiliations, deprivations and punishments which could conceivably fall under that umbrella. Despite the tug of the bond to obey, to relax, Lucifer tenses, stomach churning.

Somehow the spawn appears to sense this as she rouses slightly and peers at him through sleepy eyes. ‘What’s wrong, Lucifer?’

Lucifer shifts uneasily on his cushion. Finally, he says quietly, ‘What is your father like when he's angry? What does he do to punish you?’

She squints at him. ‘Dad? He just puts me in time out.’

Lucifer doesn't know what that is, but it sounds awful and final. Like banishment. Lucifer couldn't bear banishment, not again. With the bond in place, he fears it might just kill him this time.

‘What is that?’ He asks, careful to keep his voice low and urgent, wary of attracting Daniel’s attention. ‘Banishment? Imprisonment? Does he lock you in the basement? Enchain you?’

Trixie giggles at him. ‘You're funny!’

Lucifer wasn't trying to be. He eyes her, evaluating. ‘Well, you are diminutive. Perhaps he will when you're older.’

The child snuggles back into his shoulder. ‘Don’t be sad, Lucifer,’ she says sleepily. ‘Dad loves you. He'd never hurt you.’

And with that Lucifer loses her back into the arms of Morpheus. He stares at the blank screen of the television for a long time in silence. ‘Yes,’ he says at last to her sleeping form. ‘I've heard that before too.’


	29. Chicken Soup for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is sick and Lucifer plays nurse-maid. Sadly no sexy costumes are involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, dear readers! Erya’s new job is actively trying to kill her and replace her mind with a bag of sedated lizards, which has made focussing on anything else an exercise in hopelessness. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy the return to (semi) regular scheduling. :D The next few chapters include new (!) and reworked scenes for your deckerdouchestar crack, angst and fluff needs. :D
> 
> Chapter title is taken from the Christian book series by the same name, which saved my ass every time I had to do a student-lead bible study at high school.

Three weeks go by, to depressing revelations. Lucifer finds himself less at Lux and more at Daniel’s ugly apartment, lingering where he might have otherwise never stepped foot. He goes for banal reasons - to drop off a file on Chloe’s behalf, and to test a theory regarding the bond that could have waited. He even passes up his set performing at Lux to swing by Daniel’s for no reason but to collect the spawn when Dan is required at the precinct during an emergency. 

And each time it is only hours later, when Lucifer is lying in his bed, framed by black sheets and refraining from the now pointless endeavour of touching his own cock, that he realises how the bond is altering his behaviour, subtle and insidious. How it draws him to Daniel's side, softly whispering deceptive thoughts of warmth and affection, of _love_.

So when Lucifer finds himself on Daniel’s doorstep with a bag of donuts and a tupperware tub of home-cooked chicken soup, upon being informed by Chloe that Dan is home sick from work today, the realisation that he’s prepared and brought broth to tend to his ailing Master hits him hard. His hand freezes, inches away from the battered door where he’s just knocked and he frowns, furious and vaguely inexplicably _hurt_. 

This isn’t _him_. He’s the _Devil_ , for Dad’s sake, he doesn’t go around making soup and delivering it like some kind of sexy soup-o-gram - and especially not to undeserving, ordering _douches_. No matter how sick, pitiful, and no doubt snivelling, they are. 

He scowls and turns on his heel, preparing to go. _He_ can eat the soup and the donuts, and to hell with Daniel Espinoza - quite literally, if he’s feeling particularly malevolent. Hopefully this disgusting illness will carry him straight there. 

But before he can retreat, the door creaks open, revealing a sallow-faced Daniel. Clad in an ugly, battered beige robe (very arguably _not_ a dress, in contrast to what Amenadiel likes to call his silly apparel) which does nothing for his now (even more hideous than usual) complexion, he looks every bit as miserable as Lucifer had dared dream. There’s what Lucifer _hopes_ is a food stain on his lapel, and Lucifer shudders a little.

Dan blinks at Lucifer slowly, liked a stunned mullet, and draws his robe tighter around him. ‘Lucifer?’ He makes a disgusting congested sniff and Lucifer wrinkles his nose in faint revulsion. He looks almost as sticky and unhygienic as his diminutive spawn. 

He glares at the man repressively. ‘I brought you soup,’ he snaps, without preamble. He jerks up the bag and shoves it into Dan’s (mm, still firm - not that he notices, of course) chest. ‘May I come in?’

Dan blinks again, looking just as air-headed as usual, but opens the door. The bond, as darkly insidious as it is, rewards Lucifer with a spark of warmth. He detests it, but at the same time leans into it with a kind of automatic twisted yearning, like a child cast out in the cold seeking heat wherever it is offered. This duality, he thinks bitterly, has been happening more lately, oddly reminiscent of a time, now long ago, when he stupidly still craved affection long denied to him by his father - that same twisted, futile ache. He is almost impressed by the bond’s cruel ingenuity. 

In Daniel’s - still poorly equipped kitchen, honestly, the amount of time Lucifer spends here he should just pay the upgrade himself - he prepares the soup and slams it onto the table in front of Dan. A bit slops over the side of the crisp white bone china (brought by Lucifer, naturally - the cheap plastic Dan seems to possess is too sad for words) and Lucifer irritably swipes it clean with his thumb. 

He absently licks his thumb as he glowers at Dan, gesturing him to sit down already. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Eat, please.’

He eyes Dan as the man sits. He looks cautious for reasons Lucifer could not possibly fathom, and Lucifer continues to loom over him irritably. ‘I’m told that chicken soup has a special healing quality to it, though it’s beyond me what that might be. My mother informed me of this effect.’

‘Your mom helped you make this?’ Dan says, spoon freezing halfway to his mouth.

Lucifer frowns down at him, still feeling faintly jittery and on-edge. Daniel’s eyes are red-rimmed and sore looking, and something about his wan features _tugs_ at something Lucifer does not wish to name. Probably the bond. ‘Of course she didn’t. Have you even met my mother? Her cooking is atrocious. I wouldn’t feed it to - well, even you. It would be cruelty to Daniels.’ He sniffs. 

Dan looks relieved. He takes a tentative sip of the soup before blinking, and before Lucifer’s eyes, practically inhaling the rest.

After a few minutes the sound of his slurps slow and he looks up at Lucifer, apparently missing Lucifer’s expression of disgust. ‘Wait, aren’t you going to join me?’ 

Lucifer sighs. He could say no - Daniel has oh-so kindly left him that out. He could walk out and leave Dan to recover from his miserable, no doubt well-deserved, infection alone, but he finds himself not wishing to leave. He bites back a pulse of irritation at the bond, the situation and _Dan_.

‘Of course,’ Lucifer agrees with faux-equanimity, and _kneels_. He takes a sense of vindictive joy at Dan’s discomfort, the uneasy bob of his throat as he twitches in his seat.

Lucifer smirks up at him challengingly. Daniel seems unsettled, as he always does by any show of submission on Lucifer’s part. This continues to baffle Lucifer, just a little. If you have the Devil - once the second (alright, third - fine, _fourth_ ) most powerful creature in all of creation on his knees, why would anyone feel anything other than victorious _glee_? That’s certainly ever been Lucifer’s experience. But then, Lucifer ponders, Daniel has never really been the brightest star in the metaphorical galaxy. 

Dan’s fingers tense around the spoon as he twists slightly in his chair to regard Lucifer on the floor beside him. ‘You don’t-’ then he stops, hopefully remembering the logic Lucifer has reminded him of every time he has attended to meet the bond’s demands. He sighs and returns his gaze to the soup. The slurps resume. 

‘Chloe hit a dead end,’ Dan tells him absently. A drop of chicken broth slowly drips down from his spoon onto the table under Lucifer’s appalled gaze.

‘I am aware,’ Lucifer agrees darkly from his place on the floor. His shoulder occasionally brushes against Dan’s thigh, spreading something warm and strangely aching through him. ‘She informed me this morning, and mentioned you were ill.’

‘That’s how you knew. I was worried it was some kind of creepy bond thing.’

Lucifer carefully doesn’t mention the tug he’d felt all morning to care for his Lord, the sense of a ache in his throat. ‘I assume Michael hasn’t found anything either. He’s useless, really- if it doesn’t involve sticking a sword through a person or smashing something, he’s pretty ineffectual.’ He pauses. ‘Mind, I haven’t actually heard anything from him, which is at least one thing to be thankful for.’

‘He really threw you out of heaven, huh,’ Dan says through a stuffy nose. Lucifer looks up at him sharply.

‘Yes, thank you for reminding me.’

Dan winces. ‘No I meant - sorry. It’s just,’ Dan uses his free hand to scratch at the day-old stubble that has accumulated on his face, ‘you’re so much… _more_ than any person I’ve ever met. I know,’ he holds up a hand at Lucifer’s coming interjection, ‘that you’re not like any person I’ve ever met, but even knowing Amenadiel and having met Michael, you still seem-’ he pauses. ‘Brighter. More dangerous, with a sharper edge.’

Oh. Lucifer blinks and tells himself that sense of warmth at those words are definitely the bond. 

Still, Daniel is sadly inaccurate - matched with Michael now, Lucifer would be as useless as Amenadiel had been in that fight with Uriel. In his own match with Uriel, Lucifer had only succeeded because he’d performed a move that Uriel had never seen coming. That neither of them had seen coming. 

He shifts uneasily on his knees. ‘I was… different, back then,’ he admits. ‘Naive. Trusting.’ He swallows, and that ache in his throat currently feels very different to the one this morning. ‘I barely even fought him when he came for me, and he bound me easily with fake assurances   
of love.’

He stares down at his knees without seeing them, hands absently twisting, creasing the crisp lines of his trousers. ‘I only struggled toward the end, but he was under my guard and snapped my spine with the ease of a boot crushing an ant.’

There is a silence for a moment, as Dan sits above him frozen. Lucifer feels his regard on the top of his head like a burn but does not look up. Then Lucifer clears his throat and carries on, a little too brightly. ‘And then the fires of hell forged me anew. Millennia of torment will change a person, Daniel, whether the torture is inflicted on them or by them. Such endless fun and games. Wish you were there.’

‘Millennia,’ Dan repeats the word as if distracted by it, like a child. ‘You’re so _old_.’

‘Oh good,’ Lucifer snaps, his nerves feeling as though they’d been scraped raw (always a good torment, that one). ‘Thank you, Daniel, really. I had no idea you were so charming. No wonder you live alone in this tiny hovel.’ 

Dan blinks at him, looking startled and confused (as per usual) and Lucifer scowls up at him. ‘Well, cop-face,’ he says vindictively, ‘you’re old too. Possibly way past half your life expectancy, if I’m any judge - which I am. Many bobbies die before they are too ancient, do they not? And of some many wonderful ways - gunshots, stabbings, _the plague_ \- it’s like a lottery.’

‘No, but,’ Dan interjects, doggedly and apparently unable to take a damn hint. ‘Not old like my nanna. Old, like _prehistoric_.’

Maybe, just maybe, Lucifer reflects, the man might be just a little more impaired by this collection of tiny bugs than he first appeared. 

‘Well, if you mean before history, of course I am. I helped bring the light into the world, after all. I created the sun.’ Lucifer’s back straightens, a little proudly.

‘You’re older than the _sun_ ,’ Daniel says in wonder, a spoonful of soup paused between the bowl and his mouth. ‘And this bond makes me your Master.’

A shock of pleasure and warmth shoots through Lucifer at the possessive pronoun and he scowls, furious. ‘Yes,’ he snaps. ‘Now that we’ve visited every single distasteful part of my existence, I’ll be going.’

He raises from the ground, ignoring the guilt he feels from the bond for abandoning his so-called reason for living. ‘I hope you get sicker,’ he says spitefully.

The door slams shut behind him with the sound of a deadlock sliding home, and Lucifer is saved the look of distress that passes over Dan’s face as he storms out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out @[wellwewrite](https://wellwewrite.tumblr.com) on tumblr, which has (in)frequent updates on our lives and more frequent inane conversations where Erya tortures accrues with her (lack of) writing. We’re told it’s funny. (Well, we like to believe it’s funny). Please feel free to join us in our delusions. We have cookies*.
> 
> *website cookies only


	30. In Sickness and Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer worries about the fragility of humans and Dan does not have a kettle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for Fluff Part the Second. A brand new chapter that, to our puzzlement, somehow turned into sick!fic somewhere along the line. Blame Erya - it’s probably her fault. It also turned out longer than anticipated - lucky us? 
> 
> Now featuring a Good Omens Easter egg and the pairing I think we can all decide is the one true pairing to rule them all: Dan/Drill (RIP Dan/Pudding). 
> 
> Enjoy!

The Detective takes a ridiculously long time answering her cell phone while Lucifer sits in his - still as beautiful as the day it was made (or well, _acquired_ ) - Chevrolet. It’s hard for him to conceive what better activities she has to be entertaining than conversing with her partner but he waits (with the patience of a _saint_ ), while the call rings multiple times before she picks up.

‘Decker,’ she answers, tone somewhat distracted, then a muffled ‘-no that stays there. You need to _back off_ ,’ and ‘sorry, I’m at a scene and some idiot just tried to move evidence. Lucifer?’

‘Hello Detective,’ he replies politely, before barrelling on with: ‘you must tend to your ex-husband. I think he might be on the edge of expiry.’ He pauses, before complaining dramatically. ‘He was _rude_.’

The Detective seems oddly unmoved by his distress. ‘Uhuh. He’s just sick, Lucifer.’

Lucifer huffs. ‘Yes, and in so many ways, but I brought him soup! And all I got were insults in response.’ He pouts, just slightly. ‘He called me _old_.’

Chloe just sighs, the exhale coming out as loud over the line. ‘He’s probably running a fever, Lucifer,’ she says in the patient tones of one calming the irrational.

Lucifer frowns. ‘Do fevers predispose one to rudeness?’ He demands.

Although unwilling to say so to Chloe, he had perhaps felt just a mite put off by the whole encounter with Daniel. He had after all, practically poured out his heart to Dan, told him all about what was arguably one of the most traumatic parts of his _life_ and what did he get? Comments about his age. Typical.

The exhale sounds even louder this time. Maybe the Detective has come closer to the handset? ‘It can do - I doubt he’s feeling well at all, Lucifer.’ She snorts. ‘Knowing Dan, he’s been sick for a while. He’s such a workaholic.’ Lucifer politely doesn’t point out her hypocrisy and Chloe continues, oblivious to his expression. ‘I doubt he’d play hookie from work if it wasn’t something serious. Or about those stupid films he likes.’

‘The _Body Bags_ and _Weaponizer_ films are art, Detective,’ he says reflexively before frowning. The Detective is right. Daniel has always seemed unhealthily obsessed with work, even to the point of missing time with his small spawn. Perhaps he _is_ sicker than he first appeared? Lucifer pushes down a hint of unease. ‘Can these sorts of ailments still kill humans?’

He knows historically humans tend to drop like flies at what seems the slightest provocation - Hell had found itself full to nearly bursting around the time of the Black Plague, until Lucifer had reluctantly done some remodelling. But surely these days, the chances of a fit, muscular cop human keeling over in the middle of LA was a bit less likely?

The thought of Daniel - Master or not - suddenly succumbing to Azrael’s cool grip is an unsettling one. Lucifer had been (mostly) joking earlier when he’d expressed a desire for the man to suffer, but now, plagued with images of Daniel rasping, of flushed skin turning cool and blue-tinged with death, the prospect seems somehow less _appealing_. He shifts in his seat, spare hand absently tightening on the wheel.

The Detective sounds bemused. ‘He’ll be fine, Lucifer. It’s probably just the flu. What he _needs_ is rest and maybe some cold medicine. You should just leave him alone until he’s better.’

‘Right,’ Lucifer agrees, not really listening. ‘Cold medicine, I hear you. I may just be able to procure that.’

He clicks the big red button on his screen, oblivious to her tinny voice calling ‘ _no_ , Lucifer, _leave him alone_.’

-

Walgreens is simply _full_ of disgusting humans snivelling and marching down aisles in a queue like the damned in one of the less exciting cells in hell. Lucifer has to dodge one particularly sticky child as it runs, giggling, away from a frustrated mother who looks to be in possibly even worse a state than Daniel.

Surrounded by disgusting, unwell little humans, Lucifer absently reflects on his choices - or his lack thereof. Was it the bond that drove him here today, urging him to care for his demanding master like a good little slave? Or was it something other, something altogether more arcane and unknowable behind the ache in his breast, the persistent worry that elsewhere Daniel could, at this very moment, be shuffling off this mortal coil?

He frowns. Come to think of it, Lucifer isn't too sure what _would_ happen on the (presumably inevitable) event of Daniel's unfortunate demise.

A dead master is a still a master, he supposes - and it would be terribly inconvenient if Lucifer’s soul were to be tugged down to Hell alongside him. And let’s face it, thinks Lucifer derisively, Daniel’s never making it to _Heaven_ , is he? Not with those _murders_ and, no doubt, other sundry sins (like douchiness). And - even if he did - Dad would never let _Lucifer_ back upstairs, so they’d probably both just be bouncing around Purgatory for an eternity like a pair of soul-bonded pinballs (ugh).

No, Lucifer decides, with a faint sense of relief, it’s clearly in both of their interests to prolong Dan’s sad little life, at least a little while longer.

He’s aimlessly walking the rows of products - after picking up a stuffed bear dressed as a police officer that he finds particularly relevant - look at its little head! It even looks like Dan! - when a harried-looking young woman with long braided hair and skin reminiscent of Maze’s walks up to him and asks if he needs help.

‘Probably,’ he agrees amicably. ‘I need something to cure some sort of illness. Coughing, sore throat, general icky nastiness, you know. The usual plague sitch.’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘I see. And is this for you, or…’

‘Oh no,’ he says, faintly appalled. ‘I’m the Devil, darling. You could say I’m _immune_.’ Ignoring her squinty dubious face, he lifts the bear as if giving evidence. ‘No, no, it’s for someone else. He’s currently being kept well away from the unsuspecting public.’

‘O... _kay_ ,’ she says slowly, ‘well, um, our pediatric supplies are over-’

‘ _Pediatric_?’ Lucifer laughs. ‘I mean he may well be immature and annoying, but he’s just as old as you - maybe _older_. Hard to tell, with his face. Practically geriatric, really.’

‘Well, we do have products appropriate for seniors,’ she says, a little unsurely, before appearing to recite in a slightly disturbing monotone, ‘but most of the medicines in our cold and flu range should be appropriate for any individual over the age of fifteen, provided they’re not on any interacting medications or have any major medical conditions.’ She then stops, expels a breath and looks at him expectantly.

Lucifer blinks. ‘What, like douchiness?’ He brightens. ‘ _Do_ you have anything for douches?’

This human does seem a little dim, because her eyebrows skyrocket at the question. ‘Oh! Um… that’s another section alto- wait, didn’t you say he was sick?’

‘Oh yes,’ Lucifer nods gravely. ‘So very sick. In fact, I’m afraid he may never recover. Or were we talking about his plague? I really would like to find something that would fix his intolerable rudeness. Do you have anything for that?’

‘Uh,’ she prevaricates, ‘I think maybe I should get my manager…’

‘Well now, there’s no need for upper-management to get involved,’ he chides. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you most desire, and we’ll get this all sorted out. Shall we?’ He smiles, deep and warm.

‘I-’ she hesitates when he lays his gaze on her, but when they lock eyes, her face slackens and he feels her relax, shoulders dropping as though a weight had just come off them. His smile widens and he leans forward, attentive.

‘I… I just want girls to hit on me instead of guys, and to have a nice girlfriend who loves me for me.’ Then she snaps out of it, looking a little disoriented as often people do in divulging their true desires.

‘Well then,’ he says, blinking a few times as the spell breaks. ‘How… sweet. I suppose we can arrange something. I’ll pop you on the list for Lux and Maze can show you around. No promises on love though, darling, I won’t squash free will, but I doubt you’re entirely unloveable. Now,’ he claps his hands, cheering. ‘ _My_ thing.’

-

‘We also have syrup but most people don’t like the taste, the pills are fairly-’

‘Syrup it is then,’ Lucifer says decisively. Daniel can take his medicine and be happy that Lucifer is providing it at all.

Maybe next time he’ll think twice before making comments about _age_.

-

When he arrives back at Dan’s apartment, Lucifer has a full Walgreens bag (courtesy of Kelsie-with-an-ie) packed with the occasional torture implement (‘A thermometer? Are you quite sure it’s for his _mouth_?’) as well as popsticks, paracetamol, cold medicine, lozenges, and the small police-officer bear, which Lucifer has decided to name ‘Little Dan’ in honour of Dan’s, well, _little Dan_.

Dan just blinks at him blearily when he opens the door, one hand curled around one of the donuts Lucifer so graciously left him earlier, the other poised awkwardly on the door handle.

‘You can stop worrying, Daniel,’ Lucifer announces warmly. ‘I have arrived with supplies!’

If he was expecting gratitude, Lucifer would have been sorely disappointed, as Dan just stares dumbly. He’d ditched the robe now and Lucifer can see the worn grey Star Wars t-shirt he’d been wearing underneath. It’s equally as stained.

Lucifer sighs and gently shoulders his way into the apartment. Fortunately, Lucifer is well used to the ingratitude of the man. (He seems particularly ungracious when it came to unsolicited gifts at work, Lucifer has noticed, so he is a little curious to see how he will respond to the bear today.)

‘Lie down, Daniel,’ he coaxes, ‘the Detective said you should be resting.’ He shoos (a rather reluctant) Dan toward the couch, where he perches like a frazzled pigeon, eyeing Lucifer a little suspiciously.

‘You talked to Chloe?’ He frowns, then coughs pathetically. Lucifer winces slightly at his wheeze.

After coughing out what sounds like a small section of lung, Dan clears his throat and sits back up. ‘Lucifer, if this is some kind of payback for earlier, I really-’ he coughs a little. ‘Can we raincheck- I’m not really…’

‘No payback,’ Lucifer says serenely, swinging the bag back and forth, ‘just your caring servant - well, slave - bringing you some lemon iceys and a stuffed facsimile of a bear.’ He lifts the aforementioned bear out of the bag with one hand and thrusts it in Dan’s general direction.

Dan blinks at it.

‘Uh,’ he says, gingerly accepting the toy. ‘What is it?’

‘Well,’ Lucifer huffs, ‘you really are dimmer than usual today, aren’t you? It’s an effigy of _you_ in the form of a soft totem. Look, he’s got a little gun and everything! I’ve named him little Dan, you know after your-’

‘No,’ interrupts Dan, rudely - _really_ , it’s quite pervasive today. ‘I can see it’s a bear, just I don’t get why it’s well. Here.’

Lucifer frowns at him, and pushes away something he tells himself isn’t hurt. ‘Because your spawn informed me that these objects have calming properties for humans. I figured if it works for her, it will probably work for you.’

'Look, do you want the thing or not?' Lucifer says stiffly in the face of Dan's silence. 'Because I can always set it on fire, you know that book with the bond in it also has some positively delightful little magicks involving effigies that I'm _sure_ -'

Dan’s head snaps up from where he was turning the bear over in his hands, and then seems to catch the expression on Lucifer's face. 'No, no, it's fine. I um, like the, er... effigy thing.'

And Lucifer's dubious look, Dan reiterates. 'No, really. I feel calmer already.'

Mollified, Lucifer nods. ‘Oh. Well, good, so you should. Now lie down, there’s a good douche.’ Lucifer carrols him into a prone position on the ugly lurid green couch and even offers a cushion to pad down the unruly spring in the center. ‘Put this in your mouth,’ he instructs, before rolling his eyes. ‘Oh never mind, I'll do it. Come on, say “ahhh”.’

Lucifer had seen this before on a movie with naked nurse and doctor performing physicals when he first left hell. It was all very educational. They put the thermometer _other_ places in that film too, but Kelsie-with-an-ie had been very clear about this point. Pity, Lucifer can almost picture the expression on Dan’s face.

Warily, Dan eyes him, before finally sighing. ‘Ahhh,’ he says with poor grace, and then nearly chokes as Lucifer shoves the thermometer in. ‘Quite a gag reflex,’ Lucifer notes disapprovingly as he withdraws. ‘You should work on that.’

He claps his hands without waiting for a reply and takes a quick look around. ‘Now, where are your throw blankets?’

Dan just blinks at him blankly. ‘Dude,’ he says around the thermometer, before irritably removing it. He ignores Lucifer’s remonstrating look. ‘I don’t _have_ throw blankets. Chloe kept all that crap.’

Lucifer huffs, snatching back the thermometer. ‘You really are a barbarian,’ he informs him. ‘However did you plan on keeping warm?’ He brighten. ‘Sharing body heat? Going to arrange for a booty call, were you?’ He graciously disregards Dan’s grimace. ‘And to think, I might have been amenable, had you not been so rude earlier.’

‘I _was_ planning on going back to bed,’ Dan hedges, discourteously ignoring him, ‘I have a duvet,’ he adds almost wistfully. Then something more serious seems to cross his splotchy face and he moves as though to sit up. ‘You know, Lucifer I’m sorry-’

‘Well then, allow me to fetch your duvet,’ Lucifer insists airily, cutting him off and letting his long legs carry him into Dan’s bedroom, ignoring Daniel’s automatic cry of ‘Lucifer!’

‘You know, I am quite enjoying all this bossing you around. Must be how you feel, eh?’ He gazes around the bedroom and grins vindictively at the sound of Dan groaning from the sofa.

The dull beige coverlet Lucifer had sniffed at on his previous visits is twisted into an impossible tangle on the bed, and for no conceivable reason, a yellow electric drill sits on the right hand side, just below the twin pillow. Lucifer stares at it.

‘What on _Earth_ is this doing on your bed?’ Lucifer asks, brandishing the drill in one hand and carrying the duvet over his other arm. Dan’s little head pops up to look over the couch back, and he winces.

‘Oh,’ he says weakly. ‘Yeah. Uh-’

Lucifer rounds the couch and throws the coverlet over Dan’s prone form, ignoring the undignified noise he makes from under the blanket as it falls over his head.

‘You know, I always assumed the term “drill” in a sexual sense was a metaphor, but perhaps you can prove me wrong?’ Then he pauses, as a thought strikes him. ‘Whatever _do_ you use this for, Daniel?’ He hold the drill at arm’s length and stares at it, almost impressed.

The duvet of dubious colour scheme rustles and Dan's head emerges. He looks flushed, hair sticking up in little ruffled spikes. He also looks chagrined and (though Lucifer would not admit this on pain of death - if that were even possible) slightly adorable. ‘It- I- no! It's just a- I just _like_ it, okay?’ He looks at Lucifer with confused belligerence.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows and nods slowly. He puts down the drill. ‘If you say so.’

‘Shit,’ Dan curses. ‘Was that an order? God, I really didn’t mean to.’

‘No, no, you managed to actually forbear, for once’ Lucifer fusses, a little irritated at the idea. Dan relaxes a little, and swipes a hand over his forehead.

‘Good,’ he seems to lean a little into Lucifer’s touch and something warm rises in Lucifer’s chest in response. Dan looks up at him, grey eyes - glazed as they are with illness - a sharp contrast to his flushed skin. ‘I really don’t want to do that to you, Lucifer.’

Something uncomfortable and complicated twitches inside Lucifer’s chest and he swallows. His hand drops away from Daniel’s forehead awkwardly before he sighs, and perches his weight on the ugly coffee table in front of the tv. ‘I know, Daniel.’ Because he does. Mostly.

‘At least most of the time. Look,’ he orders in turn, ‘settle back, Daniel, the icypoles are melting. Here,’ he pulls the cardboard box containing the frozen sugary treats out of the bag and thrusts it into Daniel’s hand. ‘I was assured that it would help with your putrid throat. Wasn’t quite sure you deserved a treat but I suppose you’ve been tolerable enough.’

Dan frowns but rips open the box and pulls out a popsicle. ‘Thanks… I guess. Do you want one, or...?’

‘Or,’ says Lucifer, quite happy to miss out on the flavour ‘lugubrious lime’. Instead, he watches with morbid fascination as the sticky, melting pole disappears into Dan’s mouth and then out again in a frankly obscene motion.

Lucifer blinks and leans forward, despite himself entranced. It appears Kelsie-with-an-ie had really been onto something with these things, he must remember to thank her. He stares as Dan makes a happy groaning sound - presumably at the cool temperature on his poor abused throat - and Lucifer almost groans himself at the growing tightness in his pants.

Dan withdraws the popsicle, tongue absently chasing the soothing cool before frowning. ‘Lucifer, are you okay?’

‘What,’ says Lucifer, still caught on _tongue_.

Dan stares at him. ‘You look kinda flushed,’ he frowns and leans closer, concerned. ‘I hope you're not getting this bug.’

Lucifer scoffs and hurriedly stands. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Daniel. I am quite invulnerable to anything _your_ pitiful little system could succumb to.’

‘Well,’ he huffs, seizing the popsicle box with the intention of placing the remainders in the freezer for later. Crossing the room, he withdraws his mostly full hip-flask from his pocket to take a sip and settle his- whatever this is. General horniness, probably, Dad knows it’s been long enough. ‘Perhaps a cup of tea will cure your ills. You can use it to wash down your cold medicine.’ He grins to himself, smugly. ‘I hope you enjoy syrup.’

‘I, uh, don’t,’ Dan coughs a little. ‘I also don’t think I _have_ any tea.’

‘Not to worry,’ Lucifer replies affably, ‘I foresaw that barbarism, and brought some of my own. Now,’ he says, closing the freezer door. ‘Where exactly is your teakettle?’

‘My what?’ Dan is peering over the back of the couch again while Lucifer messes about in the kitchen, throwing open doors in his attempts to find a kettle. ‘Lucifer, what are you doing?’

‘For boiling water,’ Lucifer says, as if it were obvious.

‘Uh,’ Dan shrugs. ‘I usually just put water in the microwave to boil it for pasta.’

Lucifer turns toward him, horrified.

‘In the _microwave_ -’ he shudders. ‘What kind of monster-?’ He tuts and shakes his head. ‘Well,’ he sighs. ‘I suppose if there’s nothing else for it. Needs must when the Daniel drives.’ One of the cupboards he throws open contains a set of ugly mugs, and he carelessly dumps a cupful of water into one and sticks it in the microwave, fetching a plate to go on top. The hip-flask is already half open when he reaches for it, and he takes a much-needed swig, enjoying the burn as vodka slides down his throat. Proper Russian vodka, of course, not the crass sort usually found in bars across America. He’s sure Daniel only ever drinks the latter.

While the microwave boils the water (adequate, but not quite right - the molecules are going to taste all _off_ now) he pulls out the small container of tea leaves and carefully funnels them into his standing tea infuser before setting it inside an empty mug.

‘And _this_ is how you make tea, Daniel. And they say education is for the young.’

‘You’re _not even British_ , you’re an angel from _hell_ ,’ Dan yells from the couch, grumpily wrapping the duvet around his neck. His voice breaks a little on the words, which make them come out a little more pathetic than forceful. The bond, to Lucifer’s irritation, pangs a little, but he ignores it.

‘Well, that’s just offensive,’ Lucifer sniffs. ‘Are you saying angels can’t like tea? It’s an ancient beverage. Just ask Aziraphale, I’m fairly certain he’s _addicted_ to the stuff. What’s wrong with a good bit of cocaine, I ask you.’

Ignoring Dan’s response of ‘who?’ he pulls the water from the microwave after it dings and carefully pours it over the infuser. ‘And I am _not_ an angel, thank you very much. Been there, burned the wings, got the t-shirt.’

While Lucifer fusses with the infuser, Daniel grows quiet, so much so that Lucifer vaguely fears he may have expired.

Then Dan speaks, sounding confused. ‘Why are you doing this, man?’

Lucifer’s hands still for a moment, before continuing blithely. ‘Doing what?’

He hears a rustle from the sofa, then soft padding of bare feet against carpet, and then Daniel is there, lingering awkwardly in the doorway of his own kitchen. Bundled up in his ugly coverlet and half-dressed he looks deceptively young and vulnerable. ‘The tea,’ he says, brow furrowed, ‘the popsicles, the’ he huffs slightly, ‘ _bear_. Being here for me while I’m sick. I mean, don't get me wrong,’ he says earnestly. ‘I appreciate it, I do. But,’ he pauses looking at Lucifer intently, brow furrowed, ‘I just don’t get it.’

Lucifer darts a glance at him before focusing on the tea, movements deliberately casual.

At his silence, Dan creeps closer, face turning to something between wary and concerned. He hesitates, before asking, ‘Is this the bond? Am I making you do this?’

Lucifer huffs, irritated by this line of questioning, straying as it is uncomfortably close to his own thoughts. He scoffs loudly. ‘What, because the Devil couldn't possibly do something for his putrescently sick friend just because he desired it? What _do_ you think of me?’

At Daniel’s confused little face, Lucifer sighs. ‘Honestly Daniel, this whole sickness thing is a rarity for me.’ He admits. ‘I'm finding a whole _new_ genre of potential torture that I never even thought of! And,’ he adds, reluctantly, ‘I suppose your company is not _completely_ terrible while I do so.’

‘Now,’ he says, quite fed up with all this navel gazing, ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to make some nice civilised tea and here you are, being horribly distracting, what with the pitiful weepy face and disgusting unhygienic _leaking_. There’s only so much of your dripping miserably about the place a soul can take. So, why don’t you-’ he drops the infuser and grabs Dan by the shoulder, propelling him gently out of the kitchen, ‘-go sit down and rest, there’s a good lad.’

Daniel seems doubtful about this but, wonder of wonders, lets himself be exiled back to the couch.

Now free from soggy, bug-infested masters, Lucifer huffs. As he reaches into the cupboard for a mug he carefully ignores his own reservations. After all, a sick, moist little Daniel is in no-one’s best interests, not even his.

He _does_ has his dry cleaning to think of.

-

‘Daniel? _Why_ is there a large pink pony on this mug? And what on _Earth_ is it doing to that other pony?’

‘Hey, it's a collector's item, okay!’

-

A few minutes (and only one broken mug) later, Dan has slumped back down out of view on his derelict couch and Lucifer snags the flask he’d set within reach on the kitchen bench and takes a bracing swig.

Tucking the flask back into his suit, he pauses thoughtfully. Well, if it’s good for the soul, it’s good for the sick (probably). With a nod to himself, he empties a shot of the good stuff into the mug with the tea.

Then, after a moment of contemplation, he adds another shot.

Daniel does seem _very_ sick.

‘Here,’ he offers solicitously (honestly, Mother _Theresa_ would be proud of him), once he’s made his way back to the couch. ‘And the nice lady at the pharmacy said you should take these ones if you’re sleeping. Which the good Detective said you should be.’

Dan regards him for a moment, almost searchingly, before he accepts the mug reluctantly in one hand and the pills in the other. ‘Huh,’ he says in apparent surprise, after downing the pills and a sip of tea. ‘This tastes weirdly like vodka.’

‘Well, that’s because I put vodka in it,’ Lucifer declares, stealing a nearby settee and settling into it.

‘Lucifer!’ Dan admonishes, and Lucifer frowns.

‘What? It’s medicinal,’ he insists. ‘Antibacterial and all that.’

He snorts. ‘Do you know, they even tried to trick me into buying some as handwash, but I didn't fall for that. You couldn't even drink the stuff!’

‘Oh Jesus,’ Dan mutters, flopping back against the couch cushions and hiding his face behind one hand.

‘Well, that’s just rude,’ Lucifer huffs, glad to be returning to their usual repartee, such as it was. He reaches to the coffee table and nicks one of the donuts to munch on. ‘ _And_ you haven’t even eaten the lovely donuts I brought along earlier. You know,’ he smirks challengingly, ‘because you're a cop. Look,’ he says, smugly, ‘the pink sparkles match your pony.’

Dan makes a Cro Magnon-esque grunting noise in response and they fall silent for a few moments as he munches. He appears to be ruminating on something weighty, Lucifer thinks, given his unusually thoughtful mien.

‘You know,’ Dan says eventually, voice low and filled with something almost sad, ‘you’re a good person underneath all,’ Dan presumably waves a hand under the coverlet, as it makes a vague lumpy movement. ‘That.’

Lucifer blinks before making a dismissive noise, half-insulted, and reaches for another donut. They really are quite divine. ‘No, really,’ Dan insists, from his position buried under a duvet, gaze appallingly earnest.

‘Daniel, I don’t think you’ve properly grasped the concept of what ‘Devil’ means,’ Lucifer counters with a sniff. ‘I am _not_ “good”. I have never _been_ “good”. I have been what my father ordered me be, which was a goody-two-shoes swot, or myself, and I don’t need to tell you how wicked my true self can be.’

Dan looks at him with verging-on sorrowful eyes. Lucifer tuts.

‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ he says, a little sharply. ‘My choices as my own, Daniel. I may not have many left to me now, and they may not have always been - perfect,’ he allows, ‘but they were _mine_.’

But Dan seems to frown as he regards Lucifer from under his hideous duvet.

‘You still have choices,’ he says, in a tone far too earnest to be comfortable for Lucifer. ‘Man, you always have choices, okay. You always will.’

Lucifer huffs shortly. His first instinct, as it has been since - well, _since forever_ \- is to scoff, because why should he take the word of the man who hold _everything_ in the palm of his hand? It would hardly the first time a so-called master had assured him of his freedom only to taunt him with his true powerlessness later down the track. But, looking at Daniel, at his tired face, the earnest way he’s looking at Lucifer with those bright grey eyes, like he _cares_ -

Lucifer looks away. ‘Well, it’s very nice of you to say so.’

He senses Dan nod and there is beat of contemplative silence while Dan sips and Lucifer regards the ugly wallpaper.

‘What was he like?’ Dan eventually ventures.

Lucifer blinks and turns to look at him. ‘Who? Aziraphale?’

Dan flaps a dismissive hand under the coverlet. ‘No, not Ariza- Azeera - whoever that is. You know, Him. _God_ ,’ he clarifies.

Lucifer stiffens without meaning to, an automatic jagged barb rising onto the tip of his tongue ready to be unleashed, but then he stops. Daniel looks genuinely curious rather than mocking and slowly the tension leaves Lucifer’s shoulders.

He frowns. ‘Well, aren’t you full of questions tonight?’ he evades.

He feels Dan shift on the sofa, knee brushing Lucifer’s. ‘Sorry, you don’t hafta answer, I just-’

‘He was everything.’ The words were out before he seemed to even think them and Dan falls silent, listening.

Lucifer clears his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘And, yes, I do mean literally everything. He was omnipresent, you know. And omniscient and omnipotent.’

At Dan’s blank look, Lucifer huffs slightly. His fingers absently grip the frayed edge of Dan’s duvet. ‘He was all-knowing and all-powerful. You try fighting something that knows every inch of you and could tear you apart with less than a thought.’

He stops, a bitter taste rising in his throat, the memory of _falling_ burnt into him.

Dan’s voice is soft when he speaks, as though afraid to startle him. ‘Did you always fight?’

Lucifer avoids his gaze, looking down at the his hands on the duvet. ‘No. No, I didn’t.’ He licks his lips. ‘I-’

Then he stops and clears his throat past the uncomfortable lump. ‘Would you look at the time?’ He says loudly and swiftly gets to his feet, backing away. ‘I think it’s time for good little Daniels to go to bed.’

Dan blinks up at him, a little taken aback. ‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ he says eventually, watching Lucifer with eyes that are a little too sharp for Lucifer’s liking.

Lucifer curses internally. Sometimes he forgets that Dan is an actual detective.

‘Is it?’ He feigns surprise. ‘Well, it’s one in the morning somewhere and the Detective ordered rest so rest you shall have. Why don’t you have some more tea?’ He says brightly. ‘Finish the cup. Have some more. There's plenty of vodka to go around.’

Dan snorts, but wonder of wonders, does as he is bid. ‘You know anyone would think you were trying to get me drunk,’ he remarks over the brim.

Lucifer smirks and approaches. ‘ _Would_ they now?’ He says innocently. ‘Well,’ he purrs, coming closer and enjoying Dan’s immediate look of caution at his tone. ‘I suppose there are always _other_ ways I could try to make you better, such as-’

‘Nope, I’m good,’ says Dan quickly and draws the duvet closer around him.

Lucifer sulks. ‘Spoilsport.’

Grumpily, he picks up Little Dan from where he had fallen onto the floor and dropped him on top of Dan’s crotch. ‘Have fun with Little Dan without me.’

‘Little-?’

Lucifer ignores him as he marches off to brew another cup of tea.

-

‘Oh not this infernal microwave again!’

-

‘Y’know,’ Dan says softly, a little slur to his voice - good to know he’s a easy drunk, it had only taken three cups of vodka-infused tea, ‘ _my_ dad was never around.’

They’re curled up again in the living room again, Dan on his hideous sofa, Lucifer on the settee pushed up nearby.

‘Oh good,’ he sighs, pushing himself back in the chair and crossing his legs. ‘I’m not your therapist you know, Daniel.’

But either unhearing or uncaring, Dan continues.

‘We lived on military bases most of the time,’ he explains sleepily, pausing only to cough. Lucifer briefly considers fetching him another icypole to shut him up and then decides against it. The lime green pseudo fellatio was too much to bear. ‘And he would be off working while I changed schools again and again.’ Dan shrugs. ‘It wasn’t too bad. My mom and nanna were with us most of the time.’

He smiles a little drunkenly as Lucifer listens, strangely unwilling to interrupt. Daniel, for all his banal chatter, is not a man prone to discussing the past. Up until now, Lucifer had always assumed this was because his past, like Dan, must be unimaginably dull. But he now he is being forced to reconsider this. It’s sort of… sweet. In a disgusting, plague-ridden way.

‘Nanna Espinoza,’ Dan smiles wryly with chapped lips. ‘Drove my dad nuts. He was firmly of the belief that we should call her Abuela, but I never grew up speaking Spanish ‘cause he was gone all the time... so when I was really little I just called both my grandmas Nanna.’ He laughs in a soft, sad way that makes something inside Lucifer twinge with a baffling ache. ‘Drove him _wild_ ,’ he laughs, ‘but she always stuck up for me.’

Lucifer nods slightly, without Dan seeing, unsure what to do with this strange echo-emotion Daniel seems to have infected him with. Is this what it feels like to be the Detective, caring all the time?

‘She sounds… interesting,’ he ventures at last.

Dan laughs at that, before it is transformed into a hacking cough. Eventually, he wheezes, ‘Yeah, yeah she was.’ He smiles, eyes lit up and distant with some bright memory Lucifer can only guess at. ‘Man, she was _amazing_. Like she took no bullshit and I swear she had this radar thing where she could just _sense_ if you screwed up.’

‘Must have had lots of practice with you then,’ says Lucifer reflexively.

But Dan just laughs softly again. ‘Yeah, she definitely did. Man, I miss her.’

Lucifer watches him, sensing an unhappy end. ‘Is she-?’

‘Yeah. Eight years ago, now.’ Dan quiets and Lucifer shifts, uncomfortable. What was it humans say here again?

‘I'm sorry.’

Dan blinks. ‘Thanks, but it's okay. It was her time, I guess.’ Then he huffs softly, ‘I guess she must be in Heaven then, huh.’

‘Or Hell,’ says Lucifer without thinking, then winces. He darts a look at Dan, half-expecting tears or existential horror - but Dan is laughing hard enough to wheeze.

‘Yeah,’ he eventually cackles. ‘She _was_ a hellraiser. She's probably running the place.’

Lucifer regards him, wondering whether laughter is a symptom of some kind of fatal complication. ‘I can practically guarantee she's not,’ he says, which only seems to make Daniel laugh harder.

Eventually he quietens. ‘Sorry, I guess I don't get to talk about her much. My family's kind of messed up.’

Lucifer arches an eyebrow in challenge and Dan smiles, wryly. ‘Yeah, yeah, you win the shitty family lottery though.’

Lucifer huffs shortly. ‘Oh goody. What's the prize? A lifetime of therapy? Doctor Linda _will_ be pleased.’

Dan laughs at that before gradually becoming more sober.

‘She'd have liked you, I think. You know, if she got to actually know you and got past the whole Devil thing, like I did.’ His smiles fades as his mood seems to darken. ‘Don't know what she'd think of all this though. You know,’ his eyes flick to the collar. ‘Me _own_ ing you. I'm pretty sure she would have _dis_ owned me.’

He frowns, hands absently pulling at the coverlet, his voice drops a bit as he curls up slightly on the sofa. ‘I don't know, man,’ he says, something dull and defeated entering his tone. ‘I just wanna be a good dad to Trixie, even though I know I haven’t been a good husband to Chloe - or a good friend to you.’ He swallows as Lucifer watches on, unsure what do or feel. Dan looks down, mouth twisting. ‘I’m not even a good person. Maybe I do deserve all this.’ He seems downcast at this. He then coughs, looking truly pitiful.

‘Well now, there’s no need for that,’ Lucifer chides awkwardly, straightening up. He hesitates. He feels to compelled to _comfort_ Daniel the way Dan had (presumably) tried to offer him comfort earlier. Lucifer shifts awkwardly, then sighs. With an easy push, he shoves the settee up to the sofa so they’re adjoining and reluctantly settles beside him. Then, hesitantly, he places one long arm around Dan’s shoulders.

‘There there,’ he consoles. ‘You’re not a completely horrible human being, as far as the scale goes. I have met worse.’ He pats him gingerly on the head. Dan sniffles slightly on his shoulder.

‘That’s… not actually that reassuring, you know,’ Dan huffs, half into Lucifer’s neck, ‘coming from the king of hell.’

‘Former King of Hell,’ Lucifer corrects, voice low and amused. ‘Which means I should know, wouldn’t you say?’

There’s a brief pause where their eyes meet, brown against gray, and, just for a moment, it is as though none of the chaos that had befallen them had occurred, and that - for this brief time - there was no bond, no fear or mistrust. Just Lucifer and Dan sharing sorrows and offering comfort.

Distantly, Lucifer registers how close they are, faces just inches away, and, just for a second, he thinks he sees Dan's eyes flick to Lucifer’s _mouth_ as though considering-

And then Dan blinks, breaking the spell. His pupils blown wide, he abruptly pulls away, something unreadable flashing across his face. Lucifer lets him go, feeling strangely unmoored.

As Lucifer watches, Dan pulls the covers over him a little closer, as though cold. But despite the sudden distance between them, he doesn't remove Lucifer’s arm from his person. He clears his throat, gaze flicking to fix on the television and licks his lips as though nervous. ‘Hey,’ he says, voice strangely still raspy despite the tea. ‘You wanna put something on the DVR? I might just have a nap.’

And so they watch the first _Body Bags_ film, Dan with his eyes closed and Lucifer not really paying attention to what is on the screen.

He feels hyper-aware of Dan pressed against his side, but strangely he does not feel fearful or wary. No, oddly, it feels almost analogous to being with the Detective. That sensation of holding something _precious_ within his arms, something that could be taken away from him at any moment.

And, feeling Dan resting peacefully, head nestled against Lucifer’s shoulder, lost to the world and seemingly completely _trusting_ , for the first time Lucifer is not entirely certain the warmth in his own chest is the _bond_.

-

‘I chose _you_ , you know,’ he says softly, into Daniel’s hair, glad that Dan, lost in repose, can’t hear him. His lips quirk briefly into a wry smile. ‘For better or for worse.’ 

'And sometimes,’ he murmurs, gaze slowly rising towards the sky, ‘I find I don’t even regret it.’


	31. The Broken Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Lucifer receives an unwanted gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot (re)appears!
> 
> Apologies for the break in service! Erya is beginning to suspect work is a literal hell-loop of slight but unceasing terror (but don't let on - we wouldn't want to alert the demons outside). 
> 
> The next few chapters are a bit more plot-driven as we approach the action. :P *plays slow menacing theme on Lucifer's piano*
> 
> Please enjoy this lovely descent into ominousness during this hellish hiatus. :P

It’s late when Lucifer returns to Lux. The small hours of the morning, really, his sun slowly creeping up the horizon as though mocking him for his folly.

He frowns, contemplatively, loosening the top button of his shirt. Somehow he’d fallen asleep next to Daniel on that horrid lump of foam Dan joking calls a ‘couch’, only to awaken when the remnants of vodka had left his mouth dry. Daniel, still asleep (and drooling, honestly what is it with him and unhygienic body fluids?) had not even shifted as Lucifer left the building. Typical, Lucifer thinks dryly, the servant taking their leave when the master no longer needs them.

He’s shucking off his jacket with a sigh when he sees it. The large brown package waiting for him on his now refurbished piano top.

He stills and stares at it, his arm still half-caught in his jacket sleeve. A sense of unease settles in his stomach and he swallows, flicking a sharp gaze around the room and surveying the shadows.

Now that he concentrates, he can feel it more viscerally. There is something in the air, a creeping sense of _wrongness_ that clings, cloying like a half-remembered scent. He inhales, trying to remember, to _hunt_ \- but his senses tell him he is quite alone. Frowning, he drops the jacket and approaches the parcel, shoulders tense. He hasn't ordered anything, it isn't the date of the birthday nominally on his fabricated paperwork, nor even his _re_ birthday had anyone cared to remember his epic party with a small token of affection.

He hesitates before approaching, fingers tentatively tracing crisp paper. It could be a bomb, he muses, or something equally diverting. Maybe another head in a box, that could be entertaining. But there is something about the sense of menace to the innocuous parcel that sets him on edge. He eyes it before steeling himself. He’s the _Devil_. He’s not one to be trifled with and _certainly_ not one to be frightened by an unexpected present.

He takes the plunge, unwrapping the thing with nimble fingers. If it is a bomb, what does it matter? Lux is closed and without the Detective or Daniel at his side he is invulnerable. Probably.

Decision made, he swiftly opens the box within and inside, nestled against sheaves and sheaves of artistically crinkled red crepe paper, lies-

-a _collar_.

Lucifer’s hands freeze. His first thought, nonsensically, is that Daniel must have sent it. Perhaps as a (horrendously late) Valentine’s gag gift? It would be just like Dan to do something so atrociously tone deaf. But then why _would_ he, when Dan had never evinced a desire to see Lucifer in anything but the collar he had himself crafted - and not even that, come to that? But if not his _Master_ , then who-?

Distantly he feels himself pick the thing up out of its box and survey it.

It's a heavy thing, all thick black leather and steel, grim buckles. It's ugly, utilitarian and vaguely threateningly sexual. Despite himself, Lucifer can imagine the way it would feel cinched tight around his neck until he's scarce even able to breathe. Imagines without meaning to Daniel’s strong able hands buckling it around his throat, claiming him, while Lucifer is on his knees. Imagines the flush of pleasure it would bring to be so owned, so loved and- _flinches_.

He drops the collar as though burnt and stumbles back, feels the bond almost winding through his thoughts like a chain, a noose, and nearly yanks at his own silver collar to get some air.

He doesn't. He's learnt better than that through hard experience.

He goes to get a drink - an entire bottle - and downs it in meagre seconds.

After several long minutes, he reluctantly returns to assess the bloody thing.

It's _broken_ , he realises as he touches it gingerly, the clasp of the buckle snapped. Why on earth would someone send him a _broken_ collar?

He drops it back into its box, unnerved, as he feels his shirt vibrate. Oh, it's his ‘cell’. The Detective. He stares at the image of her face on the screen, feeling an almost startling burst of comfort. There’s a moment where he hesitates, wanting to hear her voice, feel the love she professes, before rejecting the call. No doubt it’s another case and - just at this moment - he’s not sure if he could trust his voice not to waver.

His own wide eyes are reflected back him from the now blank screen and he swallows, unnerved.

With a final disturbed look at the box and its bizarre contents, he grabs his jacket and leaves, unable as he does so to shake the feeling he's being _watched_.

-

The day dawns bright and cold over the dirty alley which buzzes with sirens and activity, police tape flapping noisily in the breeze. The scent of piss and decay carry away on the wind, settling only when the gusts still. It’s a little eerie, Dan thinks.

Chloe is crouched in front of the body, her mouth tightly set. The victim is a woman this time, flesh cracked and desiccated but mouth still frozen open into a silent scream of suffering.

Lucifer stands back, eyes fixed on the case file while Dan regards him silently. He feels kinda weird after the odd nurse-maid show Lucifer had put on the day before, off-balance, and he’s not even sure it’s the cold still itching at the back of his throat that’s responsible. He frowns as he stares at Lucifer. The man looks slightly rumpled, for him - was that the same suit he was wearing last night? Dan can't help feeling like he's missed something, a faint memory, like the edge of a dream - like he's forgotten something  _important_.

He’d gone to ask Lucifer when he woke but the man had just vanished, leaving Dan a little out of sorts. Dan surreptitiously tries to catch his eye now. He’d like to fathom why Lucifer had just up and left in the middle of the night - beyond Lucifer’s intrinsic apparent need to come and go as he pleases like a freaking _cat_ \- but Lucifer avoids his gaze, making a show of reading the case file studiously, cover to cover, like he'd normally give _case files_ the time of day.

As Dan opens his mouth, Lucifer closes the file with a snap and pointedly addresses Chloe. ‘This one was a cop.’

Chloe nods tightly and stands. ‘In Vice. Sally Palin, 33. Disappeared five months ago- but was found to be on the take, so everyone just thought she'd gone on the run.’ Chloe looks tired, rubbing at her eyes.

Dan clears his aching throat, vaguely discomfited as always by talk of corruption in the force. ‘Everything the same as with Dalkin?’ At Lucifer’s confused expression he dryly adds, ‘the first vic.’

Chloe nods distantly. ‘Similar. Same burns and wounds. ME’s still looking into cause of death but the preliminary findings seem to suggest-’ she swallows and drops her voice, ‘-the… _stinger_ was pushed into her heart.’

Dan starts in surprise. ‘So, a different MO? That can't be good.’

Lucifer glances at him and says, unusually sombre. ‘They're escalating. Getting braver.’

There’s a long tense pause.

‘Great,’ says Dan eventually. ‘The giant scorpion monsters are getting braver.’ His voice rises unconsciously in alarm, blurting, ‘that's just _great_.’

‘Keep your voice down, Dan,’ Chloe snaps, darting a look at the unis milling around them. Ignoring his rasped apology, she turns to Lucifer. ‘What does it mean that they're escalating?’

Lucifer shrugs, hands still tight on the folder. ‘They're not meant to kill. The last one could have been an accident but this-’ he pauses. ‘It's like they're saying they don't care anymore.’

‘Well that sounds bad,’ Dan comments, feeling numb.

Lucifer nods. ‘It _should_ sound bad, given there will only be more to come. They have a taste for blood now. They're not going to stop, until something - or someone - _stops_ them.’

They stand over the body for a long moment in tense silence.

-

Despite Lucifer’s desire to head back to Lux directly - his mysterious _benefactor_ is hardly going to apprehend themselves - the Detective coerces him into the ugly QV she has parked near the crime scene. He grimaces as he takes a seat in the front, and shakes his head.

‘You know, Detective,’ he wheedles, ‘you could always let me drive.’

‘Uhhuh,’ she agrees sarcastically, switching her turn signal on (boring, Lucifer thinks) before carefully entering the intersection - always the cautious one. Honestly, how he fell in with Daniel and the Detective of all people he’ll never know. ‘That’s going to happen never.’

A beat and then, ‘Dan told me what you did for him yesterday. That was really sweet, Lucifer.’ He can almost _hear_ her approval, and it rankles just a bit.

‘Well,’ he huffs, staring out the window. ‘A slave has to serve his Master and all that.’ He can feel her gaze on him but he doesn’t turn. ‘Just doing my duty, you understand.’

‘Right,’ the level of scepticism in her voice is almost offensive, really. ‘Is that all that was, then? The bond?’ Her voice is so gentle it’s almost painful. Outside, the colourful signs and bright greenery of trees flash past, a stark contrast to his mood. The silence goes on for so long that he hears her fidget beside him, a nervous twitch of nails on the wheel.

‘Maybe not,’ he finally admits. Then his gaze snaps left to look at her. ‘Detective-’

‘Crap,’ she curses, cutting him off and slamming on the brakes. The car in front fishtails to get out of her way and she holds down the horn before switching the car’s lights and siren on. Wonderful- he’s always wanted to be part of a traffic stop.

And the words die on his lips.

By the time they’ve gotten to the station, Lucifer has mocked her about twenty times over the traffic offender’s _true desire_ to sleep with her (understandable), and the way she had gaped (hilarious - or it would have been be, he supposes, had the back of his mind not still been dwelling on his blasted _gift_ ).

As punishment - or so he supposes - she hands him a sheaf of paper and orders him to go to the lab with Dan and write a detailed report on each piece of Locust-related evidence.

He’s examining a decades old moth-eaten blanket with distaste when Miss Lopez pokes her head into the lab. ‘Hey Lucifer?’ she says cheerily. ‘Did you order a package to be delivered here?’

He puts the dirty rag down, instantly wary. With an effort he loosens his grip on the rag and forces a smile. ‘Not since last time. And this was eaten by _moths_ , Detective,’ he points at it and then at Chloe where she’s standing behind Ella, ‘not _locusts_ , and definitely not _L_ ocusts.’ He stresses the ‘L’ in case it’s not clear.

‘Last time,’ Chloe huffs, appearing to recall something vaguely distressing to her. ‘This better not be sex toys again.’

Despite himself Lucifer brightens. Oh _those_. ‘That was an emergency delivery, Detective,’ he purrs. ‘They couldn’t have had just _anyone_ sign for it, they needed the Devil himself.’ The anal beads had been _delightful_ \- and absolutely necessary, regardless of the Detective’s opinion.

‘Uhhuh.’ She rolls her eyes.

‘Sex toys?’ Miss Lopez sounds torn somewhere between delight and horror. ‘Is this like that baby Jesus butt plug that accidentally ended up in evidence? Man, I’ve heard so many stories about that!’ She looks between then, face lit up. From the other side of the table, Daniel makes a faint choking noise. ‘I left the box on your desk, Dan.’

‘I, for one, really hope it’s not a head again,’ Dan adds fervently.

‘Yes well, Boris only had one of those,’ Lucifer says absently, stripping off his gloves, trying to push aside that nagging sense of _wrong_. ‘Well then,’ he announces with a brittle smile. ‘Shall we investigate this mysterious package left randomly in the middle of a police station? Sounds wonderfully safe.’ He strides through the lab door, Chloe on his heels. Her smaller strides quicken to keep pace with him.

‘Yeah, maybe we should wait- Lucifer!’

He’s ripping off the tape before she can finish her sentence, making a show of grinning wickedly at her reaction until-

His smile drops away and a rush of cold tingles through him.

Inside the box is another collar.

He wishes he was surprised.

‘What’s wrong?’ Chloe waves a hand under his face, briefly obscuring the sight. ‘Lucifer?’

She tugs at the box, and he gasps out a hurried ‘no!’, but it’s too late, the thing is in her hand.

‘ _Ow_ ,’ she gasps, and drops it on her desk.

‘Don’t _touch_ it,’ he snaps in his worry, reaching for the item and sliding it back into the box.

‘You just did,’ she notes archly, as he sinks down into her desk chair. He ignores her eye roll in response - _she_ isn’t the one who just got a slap in the face from Hell. He _deserves_ the chair.

‘I’m the Devil, darling, the rules don’t apply to me.’

‘What _is_ that?’

He casts a glance around the bullpen. No one seems to have moved, and neither Dan nor Ella have followed them out to the desk, but it doesn’t seem worth the risk.

‘Not here,’ he insists. ‘Why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee, and we put this unsightly thing somewhere further away from mortal hands, hmm?’

She rolls her eyes, but accedes. The coffee cart nearby has nearly decent espresso, and Chloe obligingly buys him a cup with a sardonic flourish. ‘Thank you darling,’ he beams, and follows her to a nearby park bench. ‘Mmmm, delicious!’ He makes a production of his gratification. ‘How is it that you never fail to brighten my day, Detective?’ He flirts.

His charm - an apparently transparent last ditch attempt at distraction, or, failing that, seduction - falls flat in the face of the Detective’s unimpressed gaze.

She folds her arms and glares. ‘Want to tell me what all the drama is about?’

Lucifer sighs and sets down his coffee,

‘It’s a collar,’ he gestures to the box, now fully folded closed, if not sealed. He blinks at her innocuously.

‘I saw that,’ she gripes. ‘I just didn’t think it would be that big a deal to you.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Why? Because I’m already wearing one?’ he huffs. ‘Not of my own volition you might have noticed, Detective.’

She looks slightly abashed. ‘Okay sure, but you said something about mortals, and if it hurts me, but not you it’s-’ she hesitates before whispering, ‘-not of this world?’

‘Oh well done, now you’ve truly pushed us into _X-Files_ territory, Detective.’ Lucifer huffs. ‘But close enough,’ he concedes. ‘It’s from Hell. A crown of the damned,’ he explains helpfully.

Chloe fails to look enlightened.

‘So it’s not a collar? It’s a crown?’ The Detective’s brow is furrowed, and she bites at her lower lip.

Lucifer sighs. ‘Yes and no. It’s… difficult to explain given your limited ability to grasp the true nature of Hell.’ He ignores her mildly exasperated look and waves the hand not clutching his coffee. ‘Let’s just say that mortals are extremely capable of envisioning their own punishments, and most of the time, the system works with that.’

He takes a delicate sip of his drink. ‘You studied history, I would imagine, Detective. Imagine, if you will, the second-cousin to the king who poisoned the line in order to gain the throne. Wanna-be-kings…’ he pauses, trying to think of something she’ll relate to, ‘or the CEO who knifed his business partner in the back. Those false kings fear discovery and deep down, they know they don’t deserve their position. And when they die, hell helps them realise that.’

‘Okay,’ she still looks lost. ‘So they get a crown in Hell?’

‘Exactly!’ He crows, delighted that she’s caught on so quickly. ‘Fitting, yes? Only then,’ he pushes on glibly, ‘That lovely crown they so coveted slides down to wrap around their lying usurping throats.’ He sighs wistfully. ‘I do so love an ironic twist.’

He takes another sip of coffee, oblivious to Chloe’s horrified expression.

‘Anyway, over time it evolved. How well do you know your Bible? Go to any Easter services?’ He smiles indulgently at her nod. ‘Ever hear of the crown of thorns?’

Chloe nods warily. For some reason she seems vaguely disturbed. ‘The one they put on Jesus before they crucified him?’

‘Full marks,’ Lucifer praises. ‘The Romans, of course - you know, with the togas and fabulous sex - believed Jesus was a false king, hence the crown.’

She blinks, pushing hair back from her face, sharp mind clearly working. ‘So what you’re saying, is that _that_ is a torture instrument used in hell to punish _actual_ false kings?’

‘Correct,’ Lucifer beams.

‘Right.’ Then she frowns and leans forwards, blue eyes piercing his. ‘So who sent to you? And _why_?’

And that, Lucifer thinks darkly, is the million dollar question.

-

They return to the station together, so that Lucifer can collect some of the less dubious items from the lab and put them somewhere away from curious mortal hands that might prick themselves with that stinger. After sending dear Ella on a slightly wild goose-chase, and nudging the Detectives back to their respective desks, he opens the box, alone in the lab.

It really is a nasty little item, made for traitors and pretenders, intended for nothing more than humiliation and _pain_. Three metal strands plait loosely, the length forming a circle. On each strand are barbs that slide inward: to pierce the skin and itch beneath it, and outward: for display. It’s a metal crown of thorns made for a particularly vicious purpose.

His brow furrows as he lifts the coil from where it’s nestled. In Hell there is no need for hinges or buckles on such items, they simply exist where needed, tailoring themselves to fit the sinner. However this one is cracked open, broken just as the leather collar had been back at Lux.

He puts it back in the box, unease settling like a pit in his stomach.

Whoever sent this message, layered with meanings he can’t quite reconcile, has had access to both hell and earth. Moreover, it’s likely they know about Lucifer’s enslavement. It’s either that, or a throwback to when he’d been chained below for those early years, which few of the creatures of hell save Maze know about. He’s starting to get a horrible suspicion that it might be both.

‘Lucifer?’

He quickly covers the box with a file - no need for Miss Lopez get a brief flash of that nastiness - as she pokes her head into the lab. ‘Hmm?’

‘Found that extra evidence you were asking about.’

Lucifer frowns. Honestly, he’d doubted anything would have been recoverable from that awful crime scene. He’d just made up that line so that she’d give him some space in the lab, implying that anything else retrieved from the body would be vital to the case.

‘She had it clasped in her fist.’ She walks over to the table and spreads out the marred piece of paper. _I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn of both people and animals, and I will bring judgment on all the gods of Egypt_.

He frowns. ‘But that was _Azrael_ ,’ he says, baffled, before clarifying for Miss Lopez’s benefit. ‘The Angel of-’

‘-Death?’ finishes Ella, looking bizarrely thrilled. ‘Did you learn angelology in Sunday school too, Luce?

She doesn’t appear to register Lucifer’s disgusted expression, her brow furrowing in thought. ‘But hey, isn’t this from like Exodus?’ She expels a harsh breath. ‘Dude do I not envy the Egyptians. Dead babies aside, I’m really not a fan of frogs. Eugh.’

‘Plagues,’ he mutters, not paying attention to her chatter. A few things are starting to reluctantly click together in his head, drawing a map to-

He checks his watch. Good, his Mother should have returned to Charlotte Richards’ office by now.

He has a few questions for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us at [wellwewrite.tumblr.com](http://wellwewrite.tumblr.com) for more fun and games (aka: erya and accrues snarking at each other and attempting to write). :P


	32. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer confronts his mother and has a heated conversation with a late-night visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back with Return of the Angst! (But never fear, fluff is just around the corner. Probably.) 
> 
> There’s also some explicit drug use here of the inhaled variety (canon level?). Blame accrues and poor Lucifer’s coping strategies.
> 
> We should also probably note that thanks to compulsive edits (Erya’s fault, mostly) and the brand new bits we keep generating (presumably out of either a sense of generosity or sadomasochism, you decide), this fic will be significantly longer than ~~hoped~~ planned - clocking in at well over 100k (probably at least 130k!) :D
> 
> Thank you for all your comments! Enjoy!

‘What the _hell_ are you playing at?’

Lucifer’s voice is sharp and brittle as he glares furiously at the unmoved figure of his mother.

The Goddess of All Creation (retired - well, _sacked_ ) sighs and taps at the case file on her large office desk, immaculately attired as she is in a crisp white business dress. ‘What _are_ you talking about, Lucifer? Are you quite well? You look terrible.’

Lucifer glares and towers futilely over her seated form. ‘You _know_ what I'm talking about, Mother,’ he snaps. ‘The Locusts.’

She frowns at him repressively. ‘Oh. Are you still on about those silly things?’

He scowls in disbelief. ‘Yes, I'm very much afraid I am, Mother, because they're still out there _killing_.’ He says with mock-patience.

She looks unruffled as she absently flicks through a folder of case law. ‘And what if they are? How is that any of my concern? Or yours for that matter?’

Lucifer stares at her, his hands pressed hard down onto her desk, not for the first time wondering how they are even related. ‘Any concern- Mother, it is if it was you who set them loose on this world!’

She looks up at that, frowning, seeming slightly put out. ‘Me? What makes you think I had anything to do with it? What possible advantage would it give me?’

Lucifer scowls at her. ‘Oh, I don’t know - how about everything you've ever done? Your little game of hide-and-go-seek with _Azrael’s Blade_ , the floods, the _plagues_? And as for motive-’

He pauses and looks away, arms going lax. He can barely bear to think it, let alone say it. ‘To hurt me. Push me into this- this _slavery_ to punish me for turning my back on you all those years ago.’

His voice stops and he looks at her almost hopelessly, unsure whether in his heart he wants confirmation or reassurance.

But to his surprise his mother stands at this, looking genuinely aghast. ‘Lucifer,’ she says in a tone of gentle remonstrance. ‘We've been over this.’ She nears him, reaching long fingered hands up to caress his face and he flinches, stepping back despite himself.

She pauses and gives him a pitying look before letting her hand rest with utmost delicacy on his sleeve, sparing him the sweet pain her touch would evoke.

‘Lucifer,’ she repeats gently. ‘I don’t forgive you.’ Sensing his flinch she smiles softly and presses closer, expression earnest. ‘Because there is nothing to forgive. I don't blame you for what you did in Hell. I blame your father for putting both of us in that awful place when we, neither of us, deserved it.’

He swallows helplessly. ‘Have you been talking to Michael?’

She frowns. ‘Your brother? No-’ she stills, gaze sharpening. ‘Why, has he been here?’ She releases his arm and he takes a step back until the back of his knees knocks against wood at the look that crosses her face, cool and almost unfamiliar, suddenly reminiscent of the way she had been in the days leading up to his Fall. Distant, unreachable, and _frightening_.

He stares at her, almost frozen in place. ‘A little while ago.’

‘Oh,’ she seems put out. ‘And he didn't even visit.’ She huffs out an irritated breath and props her hands on her hips.

‘Well, that's just typical of your brother, always so thoughtless and cruel to his poor mother. Not like you, my sweet Lightbringer.’ She smiles at him and Lucifer can't help but bask in it, unaccountably relieved.

He tries to regain control of the conversation. ‘You swear to me you didn't release them? That you had nothing to do with this?’

She smiles sadly, eyes very bright. ‘I promise you, Lucifer. I absolutely did not release them.’

-

That leaves the question. If the usual suspects - well, _suspect_ singular; _mum_ , since the rest are presently bloody safely out of reach in Hell - isn’t a suspect any longer, then who is there left to interrogate?

He taps his ring against the steering wheel as he drives, thinking and trying not to think all at the same time.

For the first time Lucifer doesn’t _want_ to interrogate anyone. He just wants these awful reminders to _stop_. It’s not so much the object itself- the broken rings pose no threat to him and even if they were intact, he’s already bound. There’s just something _wrong_ about their presence.

Something that makes him truly uncomfortable. An old wound that’s been opened, like a blade digging beneath a scar, over, and over. He hand clenches compulsively over the wheel and with an effort, he forces himself to relax his grip.

In his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate against his chest and - for a moment - he is tempted with the desire to answer, to go to Chloe, to seek comfort in her voice, the warmth of her presence.

He even feels drawn to see _Daniel_ \- due to the bond, no doubt.

But no. He would hardly wish to plague the Detective with his woes - particularly after the close call she nearly -

No.

And the thought of going to Daniel, to _yielding_ to this obscene bloody yearning - well, that’s simply intolerable.

No, he decides, with a sense of relief.

What he needs is something to help him forget.

And luckily there’s a bottle of gin (mother’s ruin, ha) waiting for him at Lux and several large packets of powdery delights with his name on it.

-

Lucifer spends that night in a stupor, high on a _divine_ mix of cocaine and pop-rocks - the candy that is, though the combination _does_ gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Devil’s Pop Rocks’ - that make his face tingle and send his mind rocketing around the solar system. Pity he doesn’t have someone to go down on - pop-rocks are positively _unholy_ in the mouth during a nice bout of fellatio.

His mouth twitches as he leans back, toes curling as the edge of euphoria sinks in. Heh. Solar system. All those pretty balls of light he fashioned oh so long ago, and now so distant they might as well be unreachable. Chained to this bloody rock, wingless and now _enslaved_ he is struck by the sudden realisation that he will likely never see them again, not up close. Just their faint faded reflections harkening to a past so long ago now it may as well be dream.

And now he’s getting maudlin. Marvellous. That’s the problem with doing drugs while invulnerable, he supposes. It always wears off after mere moments, so he has to keep snorting and snorting, alone and with that lingering, _aggravating_ feeling that something is _wrong_ still oppressively lingering in the background.

He settles down on the tiles paving his balcony and stares at the high moon, cutting at the powder with his razor blade and letting the cool winds of the evening ruffle at his hair.

It’s terrible, this creeping itch nagging at his senses, crawling up his spine like ghostly fingers. The feel of the silver collar wrapped tight around his neck, constricting, making it hard for him to breathe, leaving him feeling trapped, claustrophobic.

Hurriedly, he inhales another line and lies back. The stars are clear enough tonight once he cuts his enhanced sight past the light pollution and the smog.

They’re beautiful. And distant. Alien.

But, despite this, the thought nags - if his mother isn’t behind the Locusts, _who_?

‘Lucifer.’

Lucifer looks up slowly, dazed and wonderfully buzzed from his last hit.

Above him Michael towers, face set in his usual unreadable dull way.

‘Michael,’ he slurs back, resting his head back against the edge of the chair seat behind him to look up at his ugly mug. ‘Mikey,’ he sounds out. ‘How are you doing, brother?’ He flaps a hand half-heartedly. ‘Forgive me if I don’t get up. Legs don’t seem to be working. But why don’t you draw up a pew?’

At ‘pew’, he snorts loudly at his own joke.

Michael, by contrast, just looks puzzled, his prominent brow crinkling like paper. He disregards Lucifer’s kind offer of a seat.

‘Brother, what ails you? Why are you speaking in that manner?’

Oh Dad help him, the man sounds almost baffled.

Lucifer rolls his eyes so hard he nearly gives himself a migraine. ‘What’s wrong with how I’m speaking? Look at you, you still sound like you stepped out of a Mills & Boon novel! Honestly, all that hark the lark business, it’s embarrassing. Haven’t you ever heard of the twentieth century?’

At Michael’s almost tragic look of confusion, Lucifer sighs. ‘Look. I’m on drugs! They’re delightful and if anyone ever gets that enormous _obelisk_ out from your arse I thoroughly recommend you try some.’

‘Drugs,’ Michael repeats, stupidly.

‘Yes,’ snaps Lucifer, rising irritably. ‘Yet one more wonderful thing Dad blessed this planet with, along with sex and, you know, _me_. Now if you don’t mind, I can feel them leaving my system again so if you could just _buzz off_ I would be terribly obliged.’

But Michael does not buzz off, instead he loiters around like a bad smell as Lucifer hauls himself up. His limbs feel heavy as he does so, ungainly like the way his wings feel after a long flight. Had felt.

He shoves down another awful bout of sadness. ‘Look, did you want something, or...?’

‘The culprit who freed the Locusts is tainted by the scent of Hell,’ Michael announces.

‘Pfft,’ Lucifer waves a hand dismissively. ‘Aren’t we all.’

‘ _I_ am not,’ Michael disagrees reproachfully and Lucifer just resists the urge to rolls his eyes and sweeps together another line of his drug of choice for the evening on the table.

He almost imagines he hears Michael huff slightly. 'I have examined the corpses in the cold grey room humans store their dead,' he declares pompously.

Lucifer does roll his eyes at that. ‘And? I’ll have you know our top experts have already thoroughly dissected the scene.’ Well, Miss Lopez and her little glow stick and baffling assortment of ‘science’ things, but Michael doesn’t need to know that.

Michael’s huff is obvious this time. ‘ _And_ they reeked of hell. The carcasses could not have been more contaminated if they had resided in the bowels of Hell with you for the last few centuries.’

He seems immune to Lucifer’s glare, just carrying on interminably. ‘The scrying you suggested would seem to exclude our mother. As I said, it is of course entirely possible she is working through an intermediary but I ‘traced her movements’-’

To Lucifer’s astonishment he proceeds to make awkward little air quotes - Dad alone knows where his brother had picked that up, Lucifer certainly would never have stooped so low.

He watches, vaguely horrified, as Michael drones on, ‘-and it appears she does nothing all day other than drink endless cups of some strange, mysterious brew called ‘es-pres-so’ and,’ he grimaces, ‘have _intercourse_ with any remotely attractive-’

‘Yes, yes,’ interrupts Lucifer hastily before he has to endure any more of this. Honestly, it’s almost as mind-numbing as listening to one of Daniel's dull little ‘work stories’. For the _n_ th time he regrets ever taking the Detective’s ridiculous suggestion to ‘call for help’.

‘A-plus brother, good show and so on - sounds like you’ve been very… thorough,’ he says, hoping to prompt him to _leave_ already. After all, that’s what Michael is good at - leaving. Then he frowns as something strikes him. ‘Wait,’ he says, squinting up at the big lug. ‘Corpses.’ His eyebrows slowly rise. ‘Michael… did you _break_ into the mortuary?’

Is it his imagination or does Michael look just slightly shifty?

‘I did not break anything,’ he assures Lucifer. ‘Although,’ he considers, ‘the humans guarding the room did seem oddly distressed by my presence. And my departure.’

Lucifer stares at him disbelievingly before huffing a surprised laugh. ‘I’m sure they did, brother. I’m sure they did.’

With a wry look at the bemused Michael, Lucifer decides he is too sober for this conversation. He pointedly takes another hit, hoping Michael would learn to take a damned _hint_ already.

But Michael just stands there, looking a little at a loss. He always was useless without direction. Lucifer closes his eyes, leaning against the railing as he feels the beautiful little molecules do their work.

The sound of celestial leathers shifting draws his attention and he opens his eyes with a stab of irritation. ‘Look, can you get on with it? You’re not bringing me anything new, Michael dear. I’d already narrowed it down to someone who _isn’t_ our Mother. And unless you plan to go crusading off into Hell for a recce as your next trick, well-’ he snorts bitterly. ‘I’m not really seeing the point to this whole ‘cessation of hostilities’ _thang_.’

He turns to face his brother, ready to deliver more witty and piercing invective only to be arrested, caught by novel sight of his brother’s features in the lights of the city. The once-loved blue eyes, the uncertain set of his shoulders like when they were young and Michael had _wanted_ something but did not know how to articulate it. Why would he, reflects Lucifer, when that was something Lucifer had to learn for all of them. Funny how he was the only one who had to pay the price.

He exhales, something not quite like fondness stirring in his breast. ‘Dear. Michael,’ he says, almost ponderously, the blissful _distance_ brought on by the drugs finally setting in. ‘You were my twin. And you broke me.’

‘I-’

‘Sent me all the way down so that our oh so knowledgeable Father could put a collar around my neck and chain me to the rock. Are you happy that I’m back in my place?’ He kicks one foot out at the empty air, hands gripping at the cold metal railing. ‘Were you happy when that collar mysteriously found its way into the hands of our fallen brother?’

‘You have to know I was not,’ Michael replies stiffly. ‘You _are_ my twin, Lucifer. You always will be, for good or ill. There is nothing in Heaven or Hell that would change that.’

Lucifer scoffs, fingers pulling back to hunt through his jacket for a cigarette. ‘Actions speak louder than words, _brother_. You should know that by now.’

‘I _will_ find who is behind this, you have my word. And…’ he sounds a little hesitant now. ‘I am going to find a way to break this _curse_ you have laid upon yourself. You will not be tethered long. Not again. You may be at fault, brother, you may have disobeyed, broken all our Father’s laws but I promise, I will see you freed of this. ’

At this Lucifer laughs; laughs and laughs until he’s bent over, nearly gasping for air. ‘Oh will you?’ He says, still wheezing. He turns around, smiling and reaches to grip Michael by one broad arm. Michael seems alarmed by his sudden joviality, pale blue eyes - so unlike his own - wide with seeming dismay. ‘Will you indeed! Well then, brother dear,’ he smiles up into Michael’s gaze, lips stretched almost viciously against teeth, ‘that just makes it all better, doesn’t it?’

Michael’s gaze flickers and Lucifer stares up at him, smile fixed and cold and unwavering. ‘And say you succeed,’ he says affably, ‘let’s say by some - ha! - _miracle_ you lift this curse, break my chains, oh brave conquering hero. What exactly is it you see happening? Hmm?’

He watches as he sees the doubt, the uncertainty grow in his brother’s eyes and smiles, leaning in closer, voice dropping to an almost intimate murmur. ‘Do you imagine I would forgive you, Michael? Do you imagine I _ever_ will?’

He watches as the blow lands, Michael’s eyes darkening in response.

Lucifer huffs out a short breath of bitter derision, before letting his hold on Michael’s arm drop along with his smile. He steps away, waiting to feel that vicious stab of satisfaction.

But looking at Michael, his brother’s normally stoic, unreadable face oddly torn up, like Lucifer had just slashed at it with a demon-forged knife - it doesn’t seem to come and he is left just feeling... empty.

Something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach and he drops his gaze and turns away, unwilling to look on his brother’s hideous features any longer. He braces himself on the railing, and tells himself this unease is just the substances wearing off.

The heavy moment of silence passes and he is left feeling alone, certain that Michael has left him once again, just like he always does when the going gets tough.

And then his brother’s voice suddenly breaks the silence. ‘What is this?’

Lucifer turns to face him, pushing down something he tells himself isn’t relief.

Michael is standing at the entrance to the balcony, face pinched, and in his hands is the first of the boxes, opened to display the brutal collar inside.

‘Oh,’ says Lucifer. ‘That.’

‘Yes, _that_ ,’ snaps Michael, hands tight around the box. ‘Lucifer, why do you have this?’

Lucifer steps away from the balcony, the same unease he felt whenever looking at the blasted things making an unwelcome return. He scoffs loudly, trying to laugh it off. ‘Well, it’s a _collar_ , obviously, Michael. What does it look like?’

He comes closer, unable to stop himself, eyeing the thing warily as though it might leap up and bite him. Having checked the thing is still safely inanimate, he looks up at Michael and smiles tightly, needling. ‘You remember collars, don’t you brother? We _were_ just discussing them. Or has all that time floating around the Silver City dulled your mind?’

Michael gives him an unimpressed look. ‘I can see it’s a collar, Lucifer. But this is hell-tainted!’

He says the word like he expects a gold star for his efforts and Lucifer huffs. His fingers itch for something to do and he takes out a cigarette, avoiding Michael’s accusing eyes. ‘Well, what isn’t?’ He evades.

Michael looks unmoved. ‘Lucifer, be serious,’ he snaps. ‘Why do you have these wicked devices?’

Then something dark, like suspicion crosses his face and gaze sharpens. ‘Or are these yours then, for some unnatural purpose?’ His voice rises, enormous hands gripping tighter at the box, warping the sides. ‘Is this _all_ some clever scheme of yours, born of that grudge you obviously hold against Heaven and our Father?’

Lucifer can’t help it, he rears back at the affront, something sharp and painful twisting in his chest. Then he laughs, a sound that sounds raw and jagged even to his own ears.

‘Right,’ he scoffs, looking away. Something seems to itch at his eyes and backs away, furious. ‘Right, of course. Because, as always, _I_ am seen as the root of all evil.’

Michael’s certainty seems to waver just for a moment, then he lifts his chin. ‘Well, you are the Devil.’

Lucifer swivels around, suddenly overwhelmingly furious, uncountable years of suffering and rage rising up from where they had been stoked at the pit of his soul. And after all of that, when he least wants to focus on marks of his bondage, the bondage that marked him in hell and then again once more under the hands of-

‘ _Who_ says?’ He snarls, pushing that thought away. ‘Because He did? Your Almighty _Master_ who dwells in his silver tower above, consigning me to aeons - _aeons_ , Michael - of pain and suffering and _torture_ just because of what? Because I said _no_? Because I dared to be _different_?’

He laughs, almost deranged, before darting forward, lunging as though to seize Michael by his ridiculous, _unbound_ throat - only for something to halt him in his tracks, restraining like an invisible hand seizing his will and he _snarls_ at the realisation-

-that even now, he is being held by Daniel’s stupid order, issued under fear in this very room weeks ago.

‘ _Lucifer, don’t fight him._ ’

Lucifer rears back, feeling unaccountably betrayed and feels some measure of spiteful joy that Michael looks just as shaken as he must, though for what reason Lucifer cannot fathom.

‘Do you see?’ hisses Lucifer, eyes glowing crimson with the lights of hell. ‘Do you see brother, what this curse has done to me?’

He stops, chest rising and falling rapidly with his agitation. ‘Why the _hell_ would I want any of this?’ he finally says, voice made humiliatingly wretched by pain and exhaustion.

A long silence hangs between the brothers, Lucifer staring at the box, eyes burning with something other than fire and Michael for once, silent.

Then Michael clears his throat and shifts, looking almost uncomfortable. His voice sounds unusually rough when he speaks. ‘Well if not you, then who? How did these _things_ come to be in your possession?’

Lucifer scoffs shortly and turns away, trying again for a cigarette to calm his nerves. ‘How should I bloody know? Isn’t that what you’re here for, you know with the whole,’ he waves the hand holding the cigarette irritably, ‘CSI: Silver City routine?’

He doesn’t need to see Michael’s face to picture the look of blank incomprehension. At his silence, he huffs and reaches for the lighter in his inside pocket. ‘Who knows?’ He says snidely, turning to face the open balcony. ‘Maybe our loving _Father_ did it. Now there was one forever fond of chains. It would hardly be the first time. Or,’ he laughs, mockingly ‘maybe _you_. Your timing is pretty _suspicious_ , wouldn’t you say, brother? What were they, a belated birthday gift for all the long years we’ve spent apart, hm?’

With a snort he places the cigarette between his lips, desperately needing the hit. He fiddles with the lighter but his fingers, shaken from either the cocaine or nerves fail him and his swears as the stupid thing just refuses to _light_.

After his fifth failed attempt he is surprised by a large hand suddenly settling over his, stilling his increasingly jerky movements.

Feeling numb, Lucifer lets Michael gently withdraw the lighter. A moment later it’s lit and, after a short pause, Lucifer reluctantly leans forward to let him light the cigarette.

They stand in silence for a moment then Lucifer sighs, feeling every one of his many years. ‘I don’t know where the blasted things are coming from,’ he confides, a treacherous part of feeling almost relieved at telling someone who _understands_. ‘Some - no doubt wonderfully creepy - individual has been sending them to me. Making quite a production out of them, really.’

His eyes flick up reluctantly to meet Michael’s. ‘First one was here. That other monstrosity was sent to work - the precinct.’ He grimaces. ‘It was all I could do to stop the Detective touching it.’

‘And did she?’ Michael’s voice is low and grave.

Lucifer winces and briefly shuts his eyes in reminiscence. ‘Yes,’ he admits. ‘But only very briefly!’ He says defensively. ‘Barely even touched the blasted thing. I didn’t say anything - didn’t want to worry her. Not,’ he adds, a little hastily, ‘that there’s anything to worry about it.’

He pauses, eyes distant, worried despite himself. ‘It didn’t mark her,’ he says at last, almost to himself, ‘I’m sure of it.’

He swallows, before forcing a smile and saying with a confidence he does not quite feel. ‘You know what she’s like. A miracle! It would take an Act of God to bring her down.’

‘Or of Hell,’ remarks Michael.

He seems to regard Lucifer for a moment, expression still and watchful. ‘And you truly have no idea who sent them?’

Lucifer snorts. ‘If I did, do you think I’d be stuck here talking to _you_ about it? I’d be off torturing the vile miscreant!’

At Michael’s look he sighs, before snuffing out the cigarette in his ashtray. ‘No, I don’t,’ he admits. ‘I did think it might be Mum - the collars if not the, you know,’ he waves an aggravated hand at his own neck, with a grimace, ‘ _collar_ \- but she flatly denied having ought to do with any of this. And,’ he says sharply at Michael’s look, ‘as you say, despite your _efforts_ , you’ve clearly found no evidence to the contrary.’

‘Not yet,’ Michael retorts. ‘But you know what she is. You should not imagine otherwise.’

Lucifer’s eyes narrow. ‘She’s our _Mother_ , Michael. And say what you like about her - she does genuinely seem to want to _try_ this time. Which frankly is more than can be said for Dad.’ He points out.

But Michael didn’t seem to be listening, instead frowning, lost in thought. ‘They’re broken,’ he notes, puzzled.

Lucifer suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Oh top marks to the rookie. Yes,’ he snaps, ‘I _had_ noticed. And no, I can’t fathom it either.’

Michael turns his gaze onto him. ‘Do you think it a warning?’

Lucifer shrugs. ‘Or some form of - incredibly bizarre - support? Who knows?’ He snorts. ‘Perhaps it's fanmail. I am terribly popular, you know.’

Michael looks dubious, eyes searching Lucifer’s face more closely than Lucifer would frankly like. ‘This distresses you,’ he says abruptly. ‘These gifts.’ He frowns, ignoring Lucifer’s automatic huff of denial. He leans forward intently. ‘Is this why you were so unhappy with me?’

Lucifer glares at him, disbelieving he could possibly be related to someone so utterly dense. It’s clearly Dad’s genetics. It’s so lucky he himself is _much_ more sensitive. ‘No,’ he says, enunciating slowly and clearly. ‘I was ‘unhappy’ because, brother darling, you are a pillock of the first order. You know, with the maiming, the rending of wings, the hurling to perdition? Remember that?’

To his surprise, Michael doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead he gives Lucifer an unreadable look, something between lost and warm and bloody _sad_ which makes Lucifer feel something uneasy stir in his chest, like indigestion or that horrible feeling he gets when the Detective - or Daniel, for that matter - looks close to tears.

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably, somehow finding himself less irritated than he might have expected at being under his brother’s penetrating gaze. Maybe it’s the drugs, he decides. He knew that cocaine was second-rate. Lucifer clears this throat and looks away, feeling oddly wrong-footed.

After a moment, he hears a rustle and then his brother moves to stand beside him next to the balcony. For a long moment they stare out at the horizon together in an unusually un-fraught silence.

‘Do you remember this, brother?’

Michael’s voice is soft, distant and Lucifer, despite himself, listens.

‘Do you remember the time we would share together? How after passing an eternity in creation we would look out at what we had made, at what our Father had bid us make and just... watch?’

Lucifer licks his lips and fiddles with his lighter. He remembers. That’s the problem. ‘That was a very long time ago,’ he says eventually, voice equally quiet. ‘Michael, I don’t think you understand how long ago that was.’

For me, he does not say. Does not mention the way time passed for him like slow molasses while it must have sped blissfully, brutally past in Heaven, in what was once home, while he suffered down below.

Michael does not respond for a moment, eyes instead tracing the LA skyline, taking in skyscrapers and lights and all that had changed since a time long forgotten.

Finally, he speaks, timbre uncharacteristically wistful. ‘I know. I only wish-’

His wish remains unsaid, resting between them like a thought shared.

The Michael turns away, pushing past Lucifer who imagines, just for a moment, he can feel the ghost of wings brushing where once his own had been.

Lucifer does not move, instead staring fixedly at the sky, even as a gust of wind heralding the beat of mighty pinions blows past him, scattering his white powder like confetti in the air.

-

Lucifer sighs as he sweeps the dregs of his night of escape into the dustbin.

‘Oh well’ he mutters to his empty apartment. ‘At least the Detective is safe.’

That’s all that matters, he resolves as he kicks the last few traces of powder off the balcony to blow on the wind. That the Detective was saved. All that he cared about, sacrificed _everything_ for, was her safety. Her life, her smiles and goodness, the way she could love even someone like him -

And now she’s safe.

That’s all that matters

-

_She’s walking down a corridor edged in black. Chains hang heavy from the doorways and the light is eerie and blue. It reminds her of the server room at Wobble, that social networking platform. Something falls in gusts from the sky - snow or… ash?_

_She shivers. It’s cold here, so cold - where_ is _she?_

_‘The descent into hell may be easy,’ she hears in Lucifer’s dulcet tones, and when she turns her head to try and find him, the world spins, her vision blurs._

_She feels like she should be getting motion sickness but her stomach doesn’t rebel. She can’t feel much of anything, actually._

_‘That doesn’t stop it hurting,’ Lucifer finishes, with an annoyed noise. ‘Bloody ash.’_

_Finally he comes into her line of sight and she can see the collar that had previously wrapped around his throat is now barbed, like the crown of the damned Lucifer had warned_ her _away from. He’s bleeding._

_When he reaches up to touch the collar he hisses in pain, and his hand jolts away like he’s been burned. He coughs, almost frantically, and she wants to run to him, try to help him find air for his lungs._

_‘Daniel,’ he gasps. ‘Dan.’_

_Dan?_

_He coughs up blood and she almost wants to cry. ‘Daniel!’_

_‘Lucifer!’_

_That’s Dan’s voice now, and Chloe tries to search for him as well, finding nothing but yet more rows of black doors, more ash, more eerie blue sky._

_‘Dan, where are you?’ Lucifer coughs again, and when Chloe turns back to him he’s on his knees, coughing dark red blood into the white snowy ash on the ground._

_‘I-’ Dan’s voice comes from behind her. ‘I don’t know? I can’t- I can’t breathe.’_

_Then there’s movement immediately behind her and then Dan is_ before _her, walking away like she wasn’t even there. She hurries forward to peer over his shoulder, concern making her stomach tighten._

_‘Lucifer?’ Dan’s hand searches for Lucifer’s, pulls him to his feet. He coughs, his voice strained. ‘Jesus, Lucifer, the blood.’_

When she wakes up, she’s gasping for breath.

And in the corner of her bedroom, half-hidden in the shadows, something _stirs_.


	33. Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer meets an old acquaintance, Dan has a lead and the plot grows teeth. Maybe figuratively (maybe not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, last week was a bust thanks to work, but please enjoy this fun* chapter as an apology with brand new scenes in this chapter and the next! :D
> 
> Please blame Erya - she’s worse than [villain/s redacted]. (Liessss.)
> 
> Stay tuned for angst, DRAMA and maybe (*darts eyes* *whispers*)... _fluff_ around the corner. :P
> 
> Thank you for all your amazing comments - they are ridiculously motivating. :D
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Love,
> 
> a&E
> 
> *Your mileage may vary. Please see in store** to redeem your ‘fun’ coupon.  
> **Online only. Terms exclude actual functioning characters.

The day dawns bright and golden, light falling through the slats of Chloe’s blinds and onto her face. She wakes in stages, nearly wrestling with the covers, limbs feeling weak and weighted as though she’d somehow run a marathon. 

The sound of a sudden _thump_ has her sitting bolt upright, heart hammering, but a clatter of further bangs and the now (unfortunately) familiar knife _thwacking_ sounds soon follow. Chloe relaxes, unaccountably relieved that it’s probably just her housemate doing battle with the Cheerios box once again. 

She sits, absently dragging a hand through her rumpled hair and frowns, banishing an odd sense of unease that seems to cling to her thoughts like half-forgotten cobwebs.

The sound of Maze cursing drifts through the air and Chloe rolls her eyes, that vague sense of something-not-right falling away in the bright light of morning. 

Just another day. Chloe hopes whatever weirdness between Lucifer and Dan _this_ week has passed by now. She’s probably being too optimistic, but between work, the _Locusts_ and the sad, confused little looks Dan had been sporting in Lucifer’s direction lately... she just feels exhausted. She can only imagine how Lucifer and Dan must be holding up. And God, that sleep last night was awful. She feels bone tired - had she been dreaming?

Her ankle catches on the duvet of her bed, nearly causing her to faceplant, and she groans, kicking irritably at the blanket. Okay, first step: not getting a concussion first thing in the morning. Lucifer would never let her live it down.

She passes Trixie’s door, and Chloe taps a knuckle against it to get her daughter up. As she rounds the corner towards the kitchen, she is briefly blinded by the searing morning light through the kitchen window.

She abruptly freezes at the sight before her, a dark shadow framed in light and in its hand a gigantic _knife_ -

And then figures swears and Chloe sighs in relief, walking up to tiredly lean on the kitchen bench.

‘Goddamn box won’t _open_ ,’ Maze growls to her, glaring at the dented - and no doubt internally bleeding - box. 

‘Hey,’ Chloe says placatingly, tugging the box away from the raging demon and sliding a finger under one of the cardboard tabs. ‘What did we say about workshop tools in the food preparation process?’

Maze squints at her. ‘That they’re useful, and stabbing things is fun?’ she hazards. 

Chloe gives her an unimpressed look, which rolls off Maze like blood from a demon’s back (Maze’s metaphor, not hers). 

‘Oh come _on_ Decker,’ Maze rolls her eyes, stabbing the knife (where did she even _get that_ ) into the already scarred countertop. ‘The blow-torch was a one time thing. The kid wanted s’mores.’

‘Mom!’ Trixie’s bright hair flashes as she rushes across the room. ‘There was a monster in my room last night. It was _awesome_.’

Oh man, what has Maze been showing Chloe’s kid? She already has an overactive imagination - to which she’s blithely added a blanket acceptance that Lucifer is the devil and Maze is a demon. She’s not _wrong_ , of course, but she didn’t even _blink_.

‘That’s… good, sweetie. Honey or PBJ on your toast?’ Chloe sends Maze a glare, but the demon just shrugs and spins her knife between her fingers.

‘Maze was going to make me Cheerios,’ Trixie chirps happily. 

‘Yeah,’ Chloe looks down at the box in her hands. ‘That’s…’ she opens the little bag inside, where the cereal loops appear to have been pulverised into powder. ‘I think she’ll just have to make you toast, Monkey.’

She sends a look in her housemate’s direction, and Maze just rolls her eyes before sighing and reaching for the bread.

‘I want PB and J,’ Trixie says imperiously, settling on one of the kitchen stools. ‘With strawberry because it looks like blood.’ She grins toothily and Chloe just sighs when Maze reaches over to exchange high fives.

The sandwiched pieces of toast Maze puts together _do_ look a little bit like they’re bleeding. Especially when Maze stabs a stiletto knife through the center as a toothpick. It least it looks clean. Trixie is thrilled, happily eating her sandwich and chatting with Maze about… something. Chloe keeps getting distracted, something still niggling at her thoughts.

As she leans against the breakfast bar, Chloe's gaze catches on the motes of dust hanging in the air, ignited by the sunlight. Distantly, something nags at her and briefly - just briefly - all she can see is blue and-

‘Maze,’ she says, voice sounding slightly tinny to her own ears, eyes fixed on the ray of light. She has the vague feeling she’s interrupted something Trixie was saying. ‘What’s Hell like?’

The room falls silent and Chloe feels suddenly embarrassed. She’s not sure why she even asked. She shakes her head, frowning at her own thoughts in consternation. 

Maze however seems unperturbed, tearing off a long bit of raw zucchini with her bare teeth. ‘Hell?’ She repeats around a chunk of green and spit. ‘Why? Wanna know where Dan’s going when he drops?’

She seems unconcerned by Chloe glaring at her, hands coming up to quickly cover Trixie’s ears. But it’s too late - Trixie’s already sitting up straighter, listening. ‘Is Dad going to Hell when he dies?’ 

Chloe stares at Maze, furious, before to turning to her daughter. ‘Oh Monkey, of course he’s n-’

‘Yeah,’ snorts Maze loudly at the same time, an undertone of _duh_ patently clear. 

‘Duh,’ Maze adds, apparently in case it _wasn’t_ clear. ‘I mean come on, Decker,’ she says, finally catching the look on Chloe’s face, ‘he killed-’

‘ _Okay_ , Monkey, let’s get you ready for school!’ Chloe can’t believe her room-mate sometimes, she really can’t. She fumes, glaring figurative daggers at Maze as she ushers Trixie off the seat. 

Trixie goes willingly, mouth smeared with bright red jam. ‘It’s okay, Mommy,’ she says earnestly, and Chloe shifts a little uneasily, hoping Trix hadn’t grasped the rest of Maze's sentence.

‘It is?’

‘Yeah,’ Trixie nods solemnly. ‘Even if Dad does go to Hell, he’ll have Lucifer with him. And Lucifer’s like the King of Hell. And Maze’s family will be there too! He’ll have fun!' She beams through her gap teeth and Chloe stares back, dumbfounded.

‘It’ll be okay,’ says Trixie sagely. ‘You’ll see.’ And with that she wanders off to her bedroom, uncaring of the bright red jelly stain on her shirt.

There's a moment of bemused silence, then Maze hands Chloe the rest of the half-eaten zucchini. ‘Here,’ she smirks. ‘I’m sure you’ll find some sort of _use_ for this.’

She pushes away from the counter as well, and Chloe is left just looking at the zucchini in mute dismay in the middle of her deserted kitchen.

And behind her, unnoticed in the deep shadows cast by the bench, something softly skitters past.

-

Dan makes his way through Lux, hunting for Lucifer through the crowd, eager to share his news.

For the first time since this whole goddamn mess got started they had a _lead_. 

Dan had stumbled across it last night when hunting through the old case-files - turns out being down with the cold to end all colds was good for one thing other than surprise nurse-maiding Devils.

He was half-awake and fumbling through the scattered and disorganised mess that is the second vic’s file when he’d found it. 

A witness report. 

It turns out that someone had been there five months ago, the night Sarah Palin had disappeared. One of Palin’s former co-workers, a drunk, grizzled (and now former) sergeant, claiming to have seen her being _abducted_. 

Scarcely believing his caffeine-numbed mind, Dan had read the thing - a rambing, confused account that sounded suspiciously like the ravings of conspiracy nut - until it got really interesting.

In between terrified ramblings the man had reported a _monster_ , like out of a nightmare - a _gigantic beast_ allegedly snatching Palin from right outside a bar they frequented.

He had told the Sacramento police all this five months ago but had been dismissed a crank - even given early ‘retirement’ over the whole mess.

Dan’s hoping the guy’ll be eager to have someone willing to listen now. 

As he nears the bar, searching for Lucifer’s coiffed hair jutting above the crowd, Dan misses a step. Trying to right himself, he accidently elbows another dark-haired man who is apparently lost in contemplation of Lux’s lights. ‘Oh,’ he says automatically, pulling himself up, ‘excuse me, buddy, I- _you_!’

A jolt of recognition hits him as the - strangely familiar - man Dan had literally bumped into straightens and gives him a cordial smile. ‘Mr Espinoza, we meet again.’

Dan stares at him, taking in the amused smile, the familiar rich dark eyes, and tailored tan suit. Where had he seen him before? Then memory strikes and he starts. ‘Oh - Doctor, um, Apollo? Apollyon, was it - from the hospital? I'm sorry - I just wasn't expecting to see you here.’

Apollyon - was that it? - raises both an eyebrow and his martini sardonically. ‘No?’ He smiles solicitously, voice rich and cultured. He sounds English, tones vaguely reminiscent of ancient cathedrals and smug prep school lunches. Different to Lucifer’s clipped way of speaking, in a way Dan cannot pinpoint. ‘And how is your lovely wife?’

Dan shakes his head. ‘Ex-wife,’ he corrects automatically, still feeling off-balance. ‘And, um, Chloe’s great, thank you.’

Apollyon nods, mouth wry and knowing. ‘Yes, I heard about her… miraculous recovery. We do find ourselves living in a time of wonders, don't we?’ His tone is amused. 

Dan nods uncertainly, feeling strangely on the back foot. ‘Yeah, um. I suppose so. Doctor Apollyon,’ he says abruptly, frowning. ‘Where’s that from? It doesn’t sound very… Indian?’ He hazards a guess, taking in the warm toned skin and curly jet black hair. 

Apollyon seems to find that funny for some reason, teeth flashing in a charming smile. ‘No it doesn’t, does it.’

That seems to be all he wants to say on the subject, smiling at Dan enigmatically over the lip of his martini. Fair enough, concedes Dan a little sheepishly. That was probably a bit rude. He can practically feel the cultural sensitivities workshop instructor they had at work being disappointed in him. ‘Right. Sorry. Um, good to see you again? I'm- I was just looking for a friend, so if you'll… excuse me?’

But Apollyon doesn't excuse him. If anything he moves a step closer, smile sharpening. ‘I'm sure. More than a friend though, I think?’

Dan frowns at him. ‘I don’t know what you're getting at.’

But Apollyon just smiles into his glass and gives Dan an ironic salute. Without taking his warm dark eyes off Dan, he says, ‘Brother, what has kept you? I've been waiting simply _ages_.’

To Dan’s surprise Lucifer appears at their side, looking vaguely pissed off.

‘Muriel,’ he states flatly. ‘To what do I owe this… pleasure?’

 _Muriel_ winks at Dan cheerfully before turning and granting Lucifer - his brother? Just how many brothers does Lucifer _have_? - a razor sharp smile.

‘Just dropping by, you know how it is. I hope you know you have Heaven in uproar, Lucifer. Your,’ his eyes drop down to Lucifer’s collar before flicking to Dan with an unctuous smile, ‘ _enslavement_. You're the talk of the Host.’

At Lucifer’s stiffening back, Apollyon claps him on the shoulder with a warm smile. ‘Come now, don't look so sour. You always did like the limelight.’

‘He's your _brother_?’ Dan demands sharply of Lucifer. ‘Doctor Apollyon is an _angel_?’

Oh shit, Dan thinks, distantly registering his heart pounding a little in his chest at the thought of _angel_ and _wings_. He’d barely escaped the _last_ one with his life. Although, Doctor Apollyon _does_ seem to be a lot happier with Lucifer’s enslavement than Michael had been.

‘Doctor who?’ Asks Lucifer, nonplussed.

Dan grits his teeth and reaches out to grip Lucifer’s elbow, tugging him away from the amused Apollyon. Muriel. Whatever. The guy he wants nothing to do with.

‘That guy,’ Dan hisses, ‘was Chloe’s doctor at the hospital. And you’re saying he’s an angel?’

Lucifer freezes in Dan’s grip, before abruptly yanking out of his loose hold and whirling around to confront Muriel.

‘Is this true, Muriel? That you interfered with the Detective when she was ill? If I find-’

Muriel cuts across him easily. ‘Calm yourself, brother. I did not harm her. In fact, I was there on orders to _help_ her.’

Lucifer frowns, uncomprehending. ‘Help her?’

Muriel nods affably. ‘Or at least attempt to. Someone had to tend to God’s miracle. I'm no Raphael, of course, but I do have some small knowledge of the ancient magicks and healing arts.’ He sighs regretfully. ‘Unfortunately, the curse was truly strong and there was little I could do. But I'm told it's the thought that counts, eh?’

Lucifer is still processing. ‘Orders,’ he repeats. ‘Father sent you?’ His voice is sharp and tinged with something Dan doesn’t quite recognise.

Muriel smiles, a patronising curl of his lips Dan dislikes on sight. ‘Of course. Who else? Ah no, forgive me, I forget to whom I speak. How _does_ exile treat you, brother?’

He makes a show out of slowly dragging his gaze up and down Lucifer’s body, cool eyes lingering just a moment too long at his collar. ‘I must say I've seen you looking better. Although,’ he gives Lucifer a smile edged with what looks to Dan like cruelty, ‘I _do_ like the collar. I've always thought chains suit you well. Something about seeing a once proud man finally humbled before his betters, I'm sure.’ He smiles, tilting to his head to side, eyes bright with challenge. ‘The rest of the host agrees, I hope you know.’

‘And this,’ he says, head tilting to regard Dan, ‘must be your _Master_. How fitting. My poor brother. It must strain you so to be under his yoke.’

He takes a slow sip of his martini and turns amused eyes onto Dan. He leans in slightly, voice dropping almost confidentially, ‘He must make a pretty sight on his knees. You're quite a fortunate man.’

He ignores Lucifer’s bitter scowl and Dan’s horrified expression, and drains his drink with a satisfied sigh. 

Seeing the man - _angel’s_ \- arch demeanour, the tense, _hurt_ set of Lucifer’s shoulders beside him, Dan can’t help a flash of anger. How is it that every single relative of Lucifer’s they meet is such a _dick_? Even Amenadiel, between stealing wings and raising the _dead_ (Malcolm of all people. Malcolm!) has his moments and Dan is _sick_ of it. ‘Yeah I am,’ he growls, ‘to have a good freaking friend like Lucifer. So you can just take your, your-’ he waves a hand, unable to find a way to sum up whatever the hell _this_ is - ‘condescending _creepiness_ and- and flap off!’

There is long moment of tense, awkward silence where Apollyon and Lucifer both stare at Dan and Dan stares back, feeling a flush slowly rise up his neck towards his face.

Then Doctor Apollyon arches an eyebrow, that amused smile that never seems to leave his damned face curling into something altogether _sharper_. Ignoring Dan, he leans closer to Lucifer and murmurs, voice just loud enough for Dan to hear, ‘Well, now. You _do_ keep interesting company, brother. How _ever_ do you keep up with that tongue?’ His eyes, now dark and suddenly seeming almost bottomless, slide towards Dan, causing something cold to creep up his spine like ice. 

Then Apollyon draws back, warm and affable once again, and the impression of menace is gone like it was never there. With a casual smile, he hands his empty glass to Lucifer and squeezes his shoulder familiarly. ‘Well, it's been lovely. Really, brother - we simply must do this again sometime next century.’

His hand tightens briefly on Lucifer’s shoulder and leans in, voice pitched low and warm. ‘I'll give your best to Father, shall I?’

And with that, he exits the club floor, somehow weaving through the crowd with ease, leaving Lucifer frozen, face closed off and Dan's skin crawling.

-

‘It was horrible. Like a _nightmare_.’

Former Det. Sergeant Michael St Claire (‘Really, Daniel?’ ‘ _Lucifer_.’) sits before them, pale blue eyes wide and glassy over the hideous brown bush shrouding his face. Clasped tightly in his hand like a safety blanket is an enormous tankard of beer, some of it already decorating his ugly flannel shirt.

And, really, the whole derelict chic thing? Does nothing for Lucifer. Certainly nothing to convince him that the man knew anything of what he was gibbering about.

Lucifer turns to look at Dan, unimpressed with the specimen of former cop-hood before him, and even more unimpressed with the sticky carpet of this horrid bar adhering to the soles of his handmade Italian leather shoes like graspy little souls desperate for redemption. 

‘Really, Daniel?’ He repeats, not bothering to whisper. 

Dan gives him a look and Lucifer lifts his hands in surrender. ‘Fine,’ he sighs. He turns back to Ex-sergeant What’s-His-Face and smiles insincerely. ‘Please, do go on. We’re all ears - well, Daniel is at any rate. What did they look like?’

The man stares back at him from his position hunched over the rickety table, eyes haunted and unseeing.

‘Monsters,’ he eventually whispers. ‘They looked like monsters.’ 

He pauses as though either overwhelmed with the sheer horror of it all or - and this is more likely as far as Lucifer is concerned - losing his train of thought somewhere in his drink. 

Lucifer lets out another heartfelt sigh, patience - already well and truly short by the last few hours - all but decimated. 

Bad enough to have had that _disconcerting_ meeting with yet another of his blessed brothers who art from Heaven - who Lucifer would much rather had _remained_ in Heaven, thank you very much. But _then_ to add insult to immortal injury, he’d had to endure a two hour road trip to interview this beer-soaked little witness in a godforsaken roadside bar. 

Two hours of Daniel eating burritos and sending Lucifer _incessant_ little concerned _looks_ , like he _pitied_ him, until Lucifer had finally snapped and stepped on the gas, speed limits (well, speed _guidelines_ ) be damned. Two hours wasted to stand in a deserted dingy bar to talk to this sot. Dad help him.

Though, he admits to himself, it had been a little fun watching Dan screech and scramble to save his precious burrito from flying out of the car during some particularly (and perhaps unnecessarily) sharp turns. Well, clouds and silver linings and all that.

‘Yes, yes, monsters, nightmare, blah blah,’ agrees Lucifer blithely, waving a hand in a little circle, hoping to move the chap along already. ‘But what _kind_ of monsters? Giant hens? Harpies? _Tyrannosauruses_? Come on, what?’

‘Lucifer,’ Dan hisses, no doubt wanting him to be nicer or something equally dull. Lucifer brushes him off. If Daniel wanted _nice_ he should have brought the Detective. But no, she was apparently busy hunting down a _different_ murderer for her ‘job’. Typical of her disappointing work ethic. It’s lucky Dan is infinitely less competent and therefore has less on his plate - practically the _department’s_ slave cum bottom that he is.

‘No, really,’ bites Lucifer. ‘Enquiring minds want to know. Because, I swear to Dad, if you’re about to tell us you saw a _coyote_ -’

‘ _Locusts_ ,’ rasps St Claire, as though it was torn from the depths of his soul. ‘They looked like _locusts_.’

The room falls silent. 

Lucifer feels his breath catch in his throat. 

St Claire’s eyes dark and fevered, burn into him. 

‘They were _monsters_.’


	34. Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer receives a much needed hug and pays someone close a late night visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the next bit, brought to you by the letter ‘F’ for… fluff*.  
> Thank you for all your amazing comments - we can’t overestimate how much joy they bring us. :D
> 
> Tags for this chapter include: #Hugyourluciferday because honestly between writing this fic and the show Lucifer needs all the hugs. :(
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> *“Fluff”

‘Is that really the best you can do?’

Lucifer’s voice comes out sharp and perhaps a little biting from where he’s standing next to Daniel.

Miss Lopez looks taken aback, hand suspended mid-point at the screen displaying their so-called map.

‘Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not exactly an exact science, Luce-’

Lucifer bites back a snarl.

Two hours on the road, an hour in that hideous bar, _two more hours_ on the road and now this. Talking in endless circles, pouring over maps, and some clunky computer thing called a ‘topographical display’ (‘no, it’s not to do with topping, Lucifer!’) to ‘triangulate’ the direction given by their dubiously shabby little witness with the locations of their crime scenes thus far.

The words of their witness, whose haunted eyes still linger in Lucifer’s mind as though etched there-

Lucifer jerks tightly at his cuffs, straightening the line of his jacket for the fifth time, impatient and furious with being so.

All that palava just to _potentially_ narrow down the _prospective_ location of the miscreants to somewhere _possibly_ south of Sacramento and north of LA - which, as Lucifer had made a point of pointing out, just left a _nearly four hundred mile radius_ for their villainous monsters to reside.

And that, of course, was contingent on whether or not they could bloody well trust the word of a cretinous buffoon of an ex-cop!

Some of his - shall we say, _frustration_? - must show on his face, because Miss Lopez’s eyebrows skyrocket, ironically consistent with her tiny-rocket printed blue t-shirt. The words ‘science is _awesome_ ’ jump out as though to mock him.

‘Dude, chill,’ Miss Lopez says in a way she probably thinks is helpful. ‘I mean sheesh, I admire your drive for justice, I do, but science will go at its own speed, man. You can’t rush revelations.’ She nods sagely.

Lucifer laughs jaggedly. ‘Revelations? And what do you think you know of-’

‘Lucifer.’ Dan’s voice is sharp, as though in warning, and Lucifer falls silent.

Belatedly he catches the startled look on Ella’s face and feels abruptly and obscurely ashamed.

‘Miss Lopez- Ella, I... apologise. I did not mean to-’

‘Hey,’ Ella’s voice is low and soothing in a way he probably doesn’t deserve. To his surprise she comes up to him and places a hand on his arm. Her dark eyes peer up at him in obvious concern. ‘It’s cool. I can tell you’re going through some stuff.’

Her gaze searches his and Lucifer stares back, unable to express the sharp feeling of helplessness that has nagged at him ever since the collars arrived, ever since Chloe touched one, ever since the bar-

Miss Lopez - _Ella’s_ brow crinkles, her small kind face crumpling like tissue paper, and he curses himself at causing her such distress. He prepares himself to apologise further, to make amends, even as her golden cross twinkles up at him, a reminder of the life and faith he left behind so many years ago.

But then - without warning - she hugs him, deceptively tiny arms tight and unyielding around his waist. He stills in her grasp, surprised, but it appears she does not desire to let go any time soon, her embrace warm and every bit as nonsensically kind as she herself is.

He half-heartedly thinks about trying to escape, but knows it to be futile from past experience. Not for the first time Lucifer morbidly wonders how she’d react if she really believed who and what he was.

Uncertainly he lets himself be hugged and, after a moment, hesitantly pats her head. Across the room he sees Dan watching them, something sad and unreadable in the set of his features.

‘It’s okay, Luce,’ comes her voice from practically his midriff. ‘It’s gonna be fine.’

She pulls away slowly and smiles up at him, face going all crinkly with warmth, and possibly - just possibly - even affection. ‘You just gotta have faith.’

-

Faith.

That’s the problem.

-

Lucifer roams the street, mind turning over recent - ha - revelations.

Unbidden, the words of St Claire echo in his memory.

_‘It was so sudden. It just came from nowhere, just took her. There was nothing I could do. God, it was so big, I tried to shoot but I was terrified. Its body was like a goddamn locust but huge and it had this tail like - like a scorpion. I couldn’t - it looked straight at me - its face looked so normal, human, but its eyes, oh_ God _and its_ teeth-’

As much as Lucifer wants to deny it - had _tried_ to with Dan - it was pretty damning.

The man couldn’t have drawn a better picture of the beasts if he had, well, drawn one.

He swallows.

The Locusts were here. Out there and waiting, probably planning their next abduction right this very moment with warped, formerly divine purpose and conviction.

And they were no closer to finding them - or finding who had set them loose.

Lost in his thoughts Lucifer walks, brushing past the denizens of the City of Angels.

This late at the night the streets are only lit by the stars and the glaring harsh glow of neon signs and street lights. It seems not too unlike the corridors of Hell he used to traverse not so long ago.

But thinking of Hell, even now, reminds him of his imprisonment there. And thinking of his imprisonment reminds him of-

Lucifer stops, collar feeling all too tight. Tugging gingerly at the metal circlet he looks up - only to be faced with a familiar door.

He starts in surprise. It appears that, without his quite willing them to, his traitorous feet had taken him straight to Daniel’s home, no doubt in search of _comfort_ or something equally awful. Wonderful. Even the faded front door gives Lucifer a warm sensation of joy and relief. Lucifer scowls at it.

Grimly he considers leaving out of sheer contrariness, but frankly the thought of a long night spent alone and unable to sleep back at Lux holds little appeal.

With a deep sigh, he reaches up and knocks.

As he waits for Daniel, he reflects that he really should get a damn key. Up until now the thought of asking for one (or stealing one, or even just plain breaking in) had felt a little too close to a surrender - or an admission of something too embarrassing to contemplate.

Besides, he thinks, brightening slightly, then he would miss out on the sheer inconvenience posed to his Master from knocking him up at all hours. This thought is borne through as the sound of faint cursing penetrates the thin door, which swings open a moment later to reveal a haggard-looking Dan in faded beige night clothes. He blinks drowsily as he bats at stray lock of hair in his eyes. ‘Lucifer,’ he half-yawns. ‘What are you doing here?’

Lucifer doesn’t really know how to answer that - so he doesn’t.

‘Wonderful to see you too,’ he greets sarcastically. ‘May I come in? Or does one need to make an appointment?’

‘Sure, why not,’ Daniel seems resigned more than anything, but steps back to grant him entrance. ‘One does not, apparently. How positively spiffing for one,’ he says in an appalling mimicry of what Lucifer _presumes_ is supposed to be his own perfect accent.

Lucifer stares at him as he brushes past. ‘Is that supposed to be me? Honestly, what do they teach you in clown school these days, Daniel? God awful impersonations?’

Dan sighs as he shuts the door behind Lucifer. ‘For the last time, it’s _improv_ not clown scho- oh you know what, never mind.’

He takes a moment to eye Lucifer, a bit too seriously for Lucifer’s liking.

Despite looking almost as bone-tired as Lucifer himself feels (although with less cause, _obviously_ ), his grey eyes are warm and Lucifer, in spite of everything, feels something tight and clenched in his chest loosen just a bit.

‘Lucifer, are you o-?’

Lucifer interrupts. ‘Well, Daniel, what’s the plan tonight? Pizza and more fun R-rated film franchises? More canoodling on your couch?’

Is it his imagination, or does the tender skin bared at the V of Dan’s boring henley flush slightly?

Lucifer makes a beeline toward the sofa of dubious colour, only for Dan to gently catch his arm.

Daniel clears his throat, for some reason not quite meeting his eyes. ‘Actually man, I'm, uh, pretty wiped. I was thinking of just, maybe, heading for bed.’

There’s a beat where Lucifer’s eyebrows raise and then Dan stutters, clearly having rewound the last sentence in that nest of cobwebs he laughably considers a brain. ‘I mean, uh, why don't _you_ take the couch and have a nap while I sleep. In my bed. Alone.’

He groans and drags a hand across his face. ‘You know what, I’m just going to go before I dig myself in any deeper. G’night, Lucifer.’ He squeezes Lucifer arm briefly, and disappears - almost fleeing really - into his own room.

The snick of his door closing feels final, leaving Lucifer alone with only his thoughts and the ugly green sofa for company.

Not exactly what he’d been hoping for. Lucifer hadn’t precisely dared to hope for sex - not with Daniel being such a stubborn philistine on the issue - but would a little conversation or even a cup of tea be too much to ask? For what it’s worth, he can believe that even an hour of kneeling might have scratched that restless itch that’s taken up residence in the back of his skull.

But no, a night alone is apparently what’s on the cards.

With a sigh he undresses to only his boxers, not bothering to make a production of it as he normally would. Not since Dan rudely refused to even hang around for the show.

The idea of napping on Dan’s disgusting green couch does nothing for Lucifer, but he grudgingly reclines on the couch, wincing as a particularly fierce spring makes a stab for his left kidney. He’d almost forgotten how atrocious this mouldy old wreck was even in the last two days since he’d been lumbered with it.

As he settles, he feels strangely isolated, his emotions still whirling in his mind, the sense of calm that usually embraces him these days at being in his “Master’s” presence eluding him.

After tossing and turning on the narrow and far too short sofa for a few minutes he growls to himself and rises, driven by that itch, that _need_ he cannot name. The bond no doubt, compelling him to ever more pathetic depths.

It’s certainly not the creeping despair at their present situation, or the grief and pain that always seems to linger on seeing one his brothers. Nor is it being reminded of his past life as a member of the Host.

No. That would imply that he’d missed it. Missed any of it.

Slowly he approaches the shabby door to the equally shabby bedroom.

He hesitates, then knocks.

After a moment he hears rustling and a low groan, presumably from the bed and Daniel respectively. Then he hears Dan’s voice float blearily through the door. ‘Lucifer? What's up? If you’re looking for the toilet paper it’s in the bathroom cabinet under the garden gnome.’

What.

Lucifer takes that as permission and opens the door, lingering awkwardly in the threshold. ‘I’m not after the loo roll.’

He could not, however, say what it _is_ he seeks, mostly because he is not sure himself.

Dan shifts a little more, blanket slipping down to reveal a sleep-ridden face. He sees Dan frown in the dark of the room and Lucifer hates himself a little for his weakness.

He clears his throat, suddenly embarrassed, shame rising up inside him to wrap about his neck like a noose. ‘I should go. Apologies for disturbing you.’

He turns to leave, defeated, only for Dan’s voice to arrest him.

‘No. Stay.’

-

Dan’s cursing the moment he says it, furious at his own sleep-deprived brain.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says immediately, sitting up. ‘I’m so sorry. Un-stay? I retract that?’

He watches the set of Lucifer’s bare shoulders relax slightly to something more natural, and his own chest unclenches. ‘Sorry,’ Dan repeats again, helpless. ‘I’m tired, I didn’t mean to do that, man. I meant um-’

He looks at Lucifer, trying to see if the man wants to be anywhere near him. God knows, _Dan_ wouldn’t want to be anywhere near Dan after that slip.

But Lucifer looks much as he did a moment ago when Dan felt compelled to ask him to stay. Something soft and vulnerable in the set of his mouth, his eyes dark and somehow lost. In the dark of the room, naked except for his boxers, he looks so _young_.

Dan knows he isn’t, knows he’s older than Dan can even hope to comprehend - _older than the sun_ , a little voice in the back of his mind whispers - but for as long as he’s known him, Dan has never been able to shake the notion that under the snark, the humour, the charisma and well, _dickishness_ , lay an impulsive, vulnerable and sometimes very frightened kid in need of care.

A kid who - from what Dan had (unfortunately) seen of his family thus far - may never have really had that care, never had a Nanna Espinoza to rap him on the knuckles when he was naughty - or to hug him when he was sad.

And something in Dan - the same something that had once offered to take Lucifer to a bar for a drink what seemed like an eternity ago - is unable to shake the need to _do_ something about it. To at least _try_ to make this whole disastrous situation a little less awful than it has to be.

He clears his throat. ‘Lucifer, do you want to-?’ He rucks up the covers and shuffles over to make room on the bed. ‘Do you want to sit and talk?’ He pats the bed invitingly.

‘Not particularly,’ says Lucifer after a moment, but despite this he slowly comes over, almost wary, reminding Dan of nothing so much as a half-wild animal.

He perches gingerly next to Dan over the covers, expression looking somewhere between guarded and uncertain.

Dan watches him. In the moonlight pouring through his open window, Lucifer looks almost - unreal. Ethereal. Pale skin glowing in the dim light, in sharp contrast with the hollows of his neck, the shadows under his eyes. His gaze is dark and seemingly haunted as he turns to look at Dan, and the collar gleams silver, filling Dan with a rush of something almost bittersweet.

Dan clears his throat and shuffles slightly in place, suspecting that this may just have been a miscalculation on his part.

Oh well. In for a penny as his Nanna had said.

‘Look,’ he starts, voice low and soft. ‘I know it’s been… hard, these last couple of weeks.’ He winces slightly at the understatement, half expecting mockery. But to his surprise it doesn’t come. Instead Lucifer just stares back silently, expression for once slightly more open, as though something had finally cracked that facade. It is almost heartbreaking.

Dan swallows before pushing on, voice a little hoarse. ‘Michael coming, the Locusts, the _bond_ , and I’ve not exactly been-’ he cuts himself off. ‘I never wanted this, you know that, but more than that, I haven’t wanted to hurt you. But I have, _hurt you_ , and I-’

He stops, eyes searching Lucifer’s. ‘I’m sorry, man. For everything. I just wanted- I just wanted you to know that, okay.’

He looks away, eyes burning _stupidly_ , like he has any right to get upset about this right now when Lucifer is right there-

He is startled by a hand reaching out to rest on his. He looks back to see Lucifer watching him, gaze uncharacteristically serious. The hand tightens slightly around his and for a beat they both look down at their joined hands in surprise.

Then Lucifer sighs. He sounds about as exhausted as Dan feels. His hand squeezes briefly and then lets go.

‘It’s not all your fault, I suppose,’ he offers quietly, reluctantly. ‘Not all of it. You’re were only doing what was necessary to save Chloe.’ He snorts in self-deprecation. ‘I am the last person who could possibly hold _that_ of all things against you.’

Dan huffs a dry laugh. ‘Yeah. But still. Lucifer- all this and your family, man.’ He shakes his head in dismay before catching Lucifer stiffening slightly. ‘Sorry, it’s just- they’re… _dicks_!’ He bursts out.

Then he winces. ‘Sorry,’ he says again, half-heartedly.

Lucifer seems unsure how to respond to that, but at least he doesn’t seem irritated with Dan.

‘Well,’ he says, a little nonplussed. ‘I would be the last to disagree with you on that score. I’ve been saying that for _years_ , but would anyone believe me?’

‘Well I believe you,’ retorts Daniel. ‘Having actually met them.’

He hesitates, unwillingly imagining a Heaven filled with Michaels and Muriels - and shudders. ‘Are they all like that?’

Lucifer looks down, face shadowed. ‘Not all of them,’ he says at last. ‘Or at least not always.’

That says volumes.

‘Well,’ Dan weakly jokes after a long pause. ‘Good thing I’m not going to Heaven then, right?’

Lucifer looks up sharply. Dan fidgets at the expression on his face. ‘What?’ he bursts out eventually. ‘I’m not, right? I mean,’ he says into Lucifer’s silence. ‘I _killed_ people. That’s one of the Ten Commandments, isn’t it? “Thou shalt not kill” and all that? So there’s _that_ and then,’ he continues, warming to his wretched theme, ‘I _lied_ about it. Gaslit Chloe and hurt her. And that’s before I even met you!’

Lucifer flinches a little - probably imagining that Dan will blame his mere presence for his own damnation - but Dan steamrolls on.

‘And then you,’ his voice breaks and he stops for a moment just to breathe, then continues. ‘I’ve hurt you. So much. And yeah, it was with good intentions and all, but still.’ He laughs weakly. ‘Enslaving an _angel_ , that’s gotta be a sin, right?’

‘The path to Hell isn’t actually pathed with good intentions,’ Lucifer says softly. He shifts, watching Dan closely as though he’d never seen him before.

Then he clears his throat. ‘Mostly metaphysical cement, actually. And I’m hardly an angel, Daniel. I’m sure Dad won’t much mind given this is probably all his Plan. Who knows, you might even get a Heavenly waiver for it.’

He doesn’t sound like he’s buying it though, something in the set of his mouth is uneasy. Regretful. ‘Besides,’ he adds reluctantly, ‘I suppose Michael was right about one thing, loathe as I am to admit it.’

Dan swallows, feeling raw. ‘What’s that?’

Lucifer sighs. ‘That I may not have been as thorough as I should have been in explaining the ritual to you. In a way, I suppose I took advantage of you. Of your ignorance.’ He swallows and Dan can’t help but track the bob of his throat.

Then Lucifer continues, voice slightly rough. ‘It was my decision, Daniel. I should not have presumed that your limited mortal mind could comprehend the consequences of your actions agreeing to the bond.’

He looks down. ‘So, you shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself. Or if you must, I suppose you’d best apportion me some of the blame.’

Dan frowns. ‘No,’ he says sharply. ‘I’m not - I’m never going to blame you for this.’

At Lucifer’s startled look Dan looks at him evenly, taking in features that, whether due to the bond or something else entirely, had become familiar to him, almost as loved as-

He exhales heavily. ‘I think you’ve already been blamed for too much by too many people. I’m never going to blame you. Not for this,’ he repeats.

He mets Lucifer’s gaze, only to be surprised by what he sees. Lucifer looks startled, mouth partly open and gaze for once unshielded, dark and deep and _vulnerable_.

Dan stares back, feeling almost as startled. Belatedly he realises how close they’re sitting on the bed, just inches away, Lucifer’s bare torso leeching heat into his body, so close and then-

Lucifer bridges the gap, pressing soft lips onto Dan’s.

-

Dan freezes.

It’s nothing like their first kiss, which was every bit as heated as it was horrible.

No, Lucifer’s mouth feels tentative on his, warm and inviting and just somehow _right_ , his stubble scratching at Dan’s face, and Dan leans in just for a moment, helpless-

Then pulls away, heart hammering.

They both breathe for a moment, staring at each other. Then-

‘Daniel-’

‘I’m sorry.’

They both stop, and after a moment Dan clears his throat, fingers digging into his own briefs-clad thighs, trying to make himself _focus_ , to do what must be done, to do what was _right_ for once. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats. ‘I just- Lucifer- we can’t-’

Lucifer nods tightly, gaze flicking away, suddenly very interested in Dan’s table lamp. ‘Yes,’ he agrees a little flatly. ‘Consent, blah, blah, consent, you’ve said.’

He doesn’t sound convinced but he’s also not kissing Dan so Dan reluctantly chalks that up as a win.

At least it _should_ be a win.

His lips tingle pleasantly, as do… other bits, and he tries to subtly bunch up the covers a little higher in the hopes that Lucifer hasn’t noticed.

He licks his lips and then wishes he hadn’t.

‘So,’ he eventually ventures into the now heavy silence. ‘You were saying- my ‘limited mortal mind’?’

Lucifer looks almost as grateful for the change in subject as Dan is and, after a beat, gamely rolls his eyes. ‘It was not a criticism, Daniel,’ he lectures in a voice that could almost pass for his normal amused-at-Dan’s-expense tones. ‘It’s simply fact. I can see the weft and weave of the magicks in this world. You can’t.’

He catches Dan’s expression and sighs slightly. ‘It’s nothing personal. That kind of detail is not apparent to most humans.’

‘Most humans,’ Dan repeats, vaguely impressed Lucifer doesn’t sound half as superior as he _could_ , ‘you mean there are some humans - people - who can?’

Lucifer shrugs carelessly. ‘There are hedge-wizards and others gifted with magicks, yes. Most have been visited by celestial beings or members of the Endless - not even all sexually, which you know, given the Endless and their games is probably a good thing.’

‘The Endless,’ repeats Dan, now genuinely curious despite himself. ‘What are-’

‘Bloody nuisances, is what they are,’ Lucifer cuts him off. ‘Don’t concern yourself with them. Lady Death is the only one you need to worry about, and she comes to all. Even I am vulnerable to her now.’

‘Death is a chick?’

Lucifer gives him a profoundly unimpressed look. He then seems to make a decision of some kind and begins to slowly lie down, reclining in Dan’s bed beside him without invitation.

After a brief hesitation Dan shuffles a bit to make room, watching cautiously as Lucifer stretches like a cat, folding long arms under his head.

Lucifer continues evenly, addressing the ceiling. ‘Both my sister and the good lady herself yes, do keep up. I also suggest not confusing the two of them when you do inevitably meet.’ He snorts. ‘Sis ain’t no peach.’

Dan has about a million questions he wants to ask, but fatigue sneaks overs him and he yawns hugely.

He sheepishly looks at Lucifer only to stop cold at the sight.

Undressed and in the half light Lucifer looks… altered somehow, eyes dark and soft, even fond, as he gazes at Dan. Like for a moment there could be something other than the bond driving him into Dan’s bed. Then Dan blinks and the illusion is gone like a dream.

‘You should sleep, Daniel.’ Lucifer says eventually, voice deep and low.

Dan shivers slightly at the rumble, wondering how on Earth he’s supposed to get any sleep with, well, _that_ , next to him.

He supposes he could ask Lucifer to leave - or go camp out himself on his own couch - but then, remembering the vulnerable look in Lucifer's eyes, the tentative kiss -

He finds he really doesn’t want to.

Slowly, hesitantly, Dan lies down on his back until he’s resting next to Lucifer, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Well mostly, given how stupidly _long_ Lucifer is. Dan tries not to think how long Lucifer might be in _other_ ways.

God, he’s a terrible person.

Silence falls between them but despite their kiss it doesn’t feel strained or awkward. Just heavy with unsaid words and unseen actions.

After a moment, compelled by an emotion he could not name, Dan rolls onto his shoulder so that he can face Lucifer in the dark.

Lucifer’s eyes are closed, dark lashes fanning across pale cheeks and Dan wonders, just for a second, what it would be like to let go for once, to reach over and kiss him.

But he suspects if he did, he would not want to stop - and that, he thinks, would make him every bit the monster Lucifer and Michael and and probably the Heavens at large think he is. Every bit as bad as the monsters he himself catches and locks away.

No. Lucifer deserves better. He _has_ better, in Chloe, and Dan- well. If Dan wasn’t so weak he’d send him away. But Dan _is_ weak and always has been.

Lost in these pained thoughts he slowly nods off. Without quite meaning to, he finds his head dropping to rest against Lucifer’s shoulder.

He stirs after moment, at the sensation of fingers, probably imagined, carding softly through his hair.

‘You’re going to be okay,’ Dan mutters eventually, on the edge of sleep. ‘Your family are dicks but-’ he yawns, unconsciously nuzzling further into Lucifer’s warm shoulder. ‘At least you have Chloe and Trix. You have a new family.’

And for just for a moment he imagines he can hear Lucifer’s breath hitch but then he is lost, lulled into sleep by Lucifer’s warmth and an achingly pleasant sense of safety and belonging.


	35. Never Mind the Goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Dan’s morning after goes about as well as Dan (probably) could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’ve been a tad busy unfortunately and accrues is just generally sick (and deserving of cuddles - all the cuddles) so we’ve had to press pause on this for a little while, and then the show got cancelled and Erya has _feelings_ while accrues is just numb, so…
> 
> Have this chapter as a peace offering? Hopefully we won’t be too long getting more to you - we’ve got some fun twists right around the corner for your delectation and amusement. >:D
> 
> And how about that finale?! There may or may not be an episode tag in the works, because... _man_. (And because Erya, it seems, can never leave enough alone. :P)
> 
> Enjoy!

Lucifer drifts peacefully through darkness, mind calm and at ease as he basks in the comfort of being in a soft bed, surrounded by the warmth and love of his Master. He absently turns towards Daniel’s heat, luxuriating in the loose clasp of his hand over Lucifer’s bare shoulders, the feel of the man's bare legs unconsciously twining around his own. He tilts his face upwards, lips sleepily going to brush against the warm skin of Daniel’s neck, when-

 _Crash_.

Something large and bouncing and _loud_ suddenly lands on top of them on the bed, startling Lucifer’s eyes open and yanking Daniel right out of peaceful repose.

‘ _Trixie_?’ Dan gapes at her, hurriedly untangling himself from Lucifer and sitting bolt upright in the bed. He belatedly yanks the sheets up to conceal his thinly clad crotch and waist.

‘Daddy!’ The spawn looks excitable Lucifer notes with sleep-addled irritation as he relaxes back against Dan’s headboard, feeling cold and wanting the warmth and relaxation of a minute ago back.

It is not to be.

‘Lucifer!’ The imp lunges at him and Lucifer shrinks back to avoid her rapidly encroaching grinning and terrifyingly gap-toothed face. Dan’s quick reflexes are his salvation, grabbing onto his daughter.

It is as he does so that he registers Chloe standing frozen in the doorway. Dan swallows. ‘Oh. Um. Hey Chloe. What are you- what are you guys doing here?’

Chloe blinks, large blue eyes still looking between her shirtless ex who looks as guilty as hell and her possibly completely naked partner sprawled carelessly across Dan’s bed, bare arms and chest on display as he arches his back and neck lazily, collar flashing slightly in the golden morning sun.

‘Oh god,’ she says faintly, a flush slowly rising up her cheeks. ‘I'm- I have to be at work early today. I thought you could drop Trix off at school. Um.’ She swallows. ‘Are you- are you guys naked?’

‘No!’ yelps Dan at the same time as Lucifer leisurely says, ‘Not if you count the collar.’

Chloe nods distantly. Her voice sounds curiously strangled as she says, ‘Trix, baby, why don't you come with Mommy? Let's let Daddy and Lucifer get dressed.’

Trixie pouts. ‘No. I wanna stay and talk to Lucifer!’

Lucifer watches, feeling close to pouting himself as Dan frantically hops out of bed, stumblingly pulling on some pants, nearly falling flat on his face in his haste.

The Detective looks relieved to see that he is indeed wearing boxers.

Chloe turns on her heel and heads for the kitchen, and Lucifer suppresses a sigh as Dan follows, yelling. ‘Chloe, Chlo, it's not what it looks like!’

Lucifer lets his head thunk down onto the pillow as their voices - hushed (Chloe) and high-pitched (Dan) as they are - grow more distant. He opens his eyes again only to almost jump out of his skin as the spawn’s face is revealed mere inches above his own.

‘Luciferrr,’ she purrs, almost as menacing as Mazikeen first thing in the morning. ‘Guess what!’

Lucifer grimaces. ‘What,’ he says dully.

She beams, revealing a brown and sticky maw, and practically bellows into his poor ears. ‘MAZE GAVE ME CHOCOLATE POP TARTS FOR BREAKFAST. MOM TOLD ME NOT TO TELL DAD. BUT I CAN TELL YOU.’

Lucifer looks at her, deadpan. ‘Goodness. How disgusting.’

She shakes her head exuberantly, pigtails flying about her tiny skull. ‘Noooo,’ she giggles. ‘They’re delicious!’

Lucifer decides that braving the kitchen - even with the puzzling tension brewing - is a kinder fate than this conversation. He hauls himself out of bed and, clad in just his boxers (and collar) makes his way out of the room, offspring trotting at his side. She makes a grab for his hand, which he grudgingly allows. No point delaying the inevitable, after all.

Her paw is sticky and warm in his much larger hand and she swings their joined palms as she expounds on the delights of chocolate pop tarts to her captive audience. ‘They’re like cake but you can eat them for breakfast!’

‘Golly,’ Lucifer says dryly in response as they enter the kitchen.

There is an abrupt - and vaguely guilty - silence.

He looks between Chloe - who is somehow managing to look anywhere but at Lucifer or her ex-husband - and Dan, who looks oddly flushed and embarrassed.

Lucifer eyes him, bemused. ‘Your spawn consumed chocolate pop tarts for breakfast,’ he informs him wryly as they come up to the bench.

At the imp’s outraged huff Lucifer stares down at her, unrepentant. ‘What? You said the Detective told you not to tell your father. You didn’t say anything about me not telling him.’

She appears to consider this logic before accepting it. ‘It's okay, Lucifer, I forgive you.’

Lucifer blinks. Strange child.

Dismissing her from his thoughts, he opens his mouth to mock Daniel for his panicked exit this morning - then frowns.

The man is avoiding his gaze, still looking horribly flushed for no apparent reason.

_Humans._

He is rudely pulled from his thoughts by the urchin tugging on his still imprisoned hand.

He eyes her warily, marvelling - as always - that such a diminutive form could house such a cunningly devious little mind. ‘Yes, child?’

Beatrice peers up at him with bright dark eyes. ‘Did you and Daddy have a sleepover?’ She chirps.

‘No,’ snaps Dan sharply at the same time as Lucifer says blithely, ‘yes’.

He catches the tail end of Dan’s glare. ‘What,’ he says, confused. ‘We did. We slept together.’

‘Can it,’ Dan snaps, looking defensive. Lucifer looks at him sharply, unable to help feeling a hint of _stupid_ hurt. Fortunately the order is a vague one and Lucifer narrows his eyes calculatingly. A little bit of leeway in phrasing is a beautiful thing and something Lucifer is not above taking advantage of. After all, it’s not _Lucifer’s_ fault Dan is incapable of being specific. And is a douche.

Inspiration strikes and Lucifer smiles suddenly, taking a vicious joy in the now familiar look of ‘oh shit’ gradually dawning on Dan’s face.

Slowly and deliberately and without breaking eye contact, Lucifer reaches up into one of Dan’s dusty cupboard - making a point of stretching his bare back luxuriously before Daniel’s hapless gaze - and selects a can of beans.

With a quick - and subtle given spawn present - wrench of celestial strength he opens it and then-

-pointedly tips it with glacial speed onto Dan’s ugly beige linoleum.

The ensuring mess, splatter, and Dan’s wince is more than a little vindicating.

Lucifer smiles at him beatifically before pressing the now empty can into Daniel’s slackened grip.

‘There,’ he purrs into Dan’s ear, voiced pitched gloriously low and dark. He presses closer and tells himself the heat of Dan’s - admittedly respectable bod - isn’t at all distracting. ‘Is that better? After all, if that’s all I am to you - a nice little housemaid or your secret bit on the side - I do want to act the part. And you’re not the only one good with a spot of _improv_.’

He smiles wickedly at Dan’s uncomfortable little face. He firmly tells himself he is enjoying needling the man and ignores that niggling discomfort somewhere in the middle of his chest. Probably just reflux. It was certainly not hurt that after admittedly putting himself out there last night with Daniel, the man hadn’t just tossed it all back in Lucifer’s face like an ungrateful little douche.

Lucifer doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting in response to his act of rebellion - more stammering probably, or hasty denials, knowing Daniel - but instead, Dan’s face suddenly crumples into a picture of regret.

‘Lucifer,’ Dan says, voice soft and sincere, and, aggravatingly Lucifer feels all the irritation at being ordered around fly out of him in one hideous fell swoop. ‘I’m sorry.’

Lucifer hesitates, wind taken out of his metaphorical sails, then shakes his head and turns away uncomfortable at the emotional display. ‘Well,’ he lectures a little awkwardly, avoiding eye contact and gesturing towards the now bean-laden floor expansively, ‘just look at the mess you’ve made, Daniel. Words have consequences you know. Would it kill you to be a tad more sensitive?’

The disbelieving silence - clearly at Daniel’s inappropriateness since Lucifer is an _angel_. Well, _metaphorically_ \- coming from behind him is at least a little gratifying.

‘Um, Lucifer?’ Beatrice’s little voice pipes up from behind him. He flicks his gaze down (dear Dad how is she so small? Really, it borders on _grotesque_.) She eyes him with her dark gaze, expression mock grave. ‘Did you just spill the beans?’

There a brief silence then Dan makes a faint choking sound. The tiny child’s mouth curves up and despite himself, Lucifer can’t help but smirk back. He gives Beatrice an approving pat (thank Heaven for Chloe’s genetics) on the head and turns to regard Daniel smugly. Out of the corner of the eye he catches the Detective looking more than a little amused at Daniel’s expense and Lucifer grins.

Lucifer crosses his arms across his bare chest and cocks his head at Dan challengingly.

Chloe clears her throat. ‘Okay, Trix. I think the boys need a little time alone - I mean,’ she darts a look between them, ‘uh... space. Why don’t we head off?’

She grabs the spawn’s hand and takes a step back, other hand waving at them. Her expression speaks volumes. ‘You two just stay and... clean up. Or um. Dress and _then_ clean up or - you know what? You do whatever, guys. I'm gonna go drop Trixie off at school. You know. Like an _adult_.’

She marches off towards the door, child in tow and then she pauses, something crossing her face and for one brief deceptive moment she looks almost as impish as her urchin.

‘Have fun, Dan.’

And with that, the door clicks shut in their wake, leaving Dan and Lucifer standing across from each other in the silent kitchen with only a splatter of beans and a hint of awkwardness between them.

-

When they finally get to work, Dan is feeling thoroughly chastised and a little chagrined. He really wishes he had autocorrect on his mouth, because this order thing is clearly not getting any easier and it’s been _months_.

Chloe doesn’t bring it up, although he does catch her staring off into space, in the general direction of his desk, looking thoughtful. There’s something about it that doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

Lucifer is more or less his usual bubbly (read: irritating) self, but a wave of guilt crashes over Dan any time he glances in Lucifer’s direction. Dan had screwed up. Again. He'd issued an order today - in front of Chloe and Trixie, no less - and… he kind of feels… _weird_ about the sleeping situation from last night.

Dan had woken tangled up in the man's long limbs possessively, thinly clad groin all but pressed to Lucifer’s strong thighs, hands bloody groping down the guy's shoulder like a pervert, almost brushing against his wing scars.

He should've taken the couch and let Lucifer take the bed. God knows the man looked like he needed the sleep, as dark shadows seem to almost always haunt his eyes now, cheekbones sharp enough to almost cut.

The next time Dan looks over, Lucifer has a uni laughing at something he’s saying. Dan smiles a little - despite those ever present shadows, Lucifer does look a little less worn in the warm light of day.

Just before lunch Dan’s stomach rumbles as he staggers through the last of his paperwork. Thank God - or whoever. Satan? - that report on the Lloyd case is finally finished. He feels a hint of pride at the neat pile of the fifty page document he’s printed to submit later. He straightens the pile a little until the edges line up perfectly. There. He's just signing off on it when Chloe arrives at his desk, her fair eyebrows pulled tight.

‘Lunch?’

‘Er, sure.’ Why does he feel like he’s being invited to his own interrogation? He hesitates, clicking his pen in and out nervously, and then shrugs, deciding it’s better to get this over with. At least she can’t make him sleep on the couch these days.

No, he thinks dryly as the break room door shuts behind him with a bang of finality. Only _Lucifer_ can do that these days, apparently.

He squares his shoulders automatically and before Chloe has a chance to say anything, he blurts. ‘I didn’t sleep with Lucifer!’

She blinks at him. ‘What?’

He fidgets nervously. This isn’t exactly the response he’d expected from her. A reaming maybe, the riot act definitely.

‘Last night,’ he clarifies before clearing his throat. He’s brave, dammit. He’s a _cop_ , he’s braved criminals, the Devil and _Michael_. He can have this conversation. ‘We didn’t have sex.’

She stares at him like he’s grown a second head and Dan takes it all back. He can’t have this conversation, where’s the exit-

‘I never thought you did!’ Chloe looks so surprised that he believes her immediately and abruptly feels like a complete idiot. Probably because he _is_ a complete idiot.

Chloe’s eyebrows do the thing where they contract and drop down her forehead. It looks painful. She drops her voice, concerned, and God, that’s worse.

‘Dan,’ she says, stepping closer, voice gentle. ‘I know you wouldn’t do that, not when he can’t consent. I know you would never hurt him like that.’

‘Of course!’ He agrees quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. ‘Yep, that’s me. Never hurting anyone I care about, definitely me.’

Okay that could have sounded more convincing. Chloe’s eyes narrow and Dan internally curses.

‘Dan... What are you keeping from me?’

Dan winces and reaches for the coffee pot, hoping for a distraction. It’s empty - because of course it is - horrible burnt dregs dwelling at the bottom like the remains of Dan’s soul. Why doesn’t anyone ever turn it _off_ when they use the last bit? Who used it last? Just wait until Dan gives them a piece of his-

Oh. It was Dan. Twenty minutes ago, when trying to distract himself from _Lucifer_. Damn it.

Dan sidles over to the sink gingerly and avoids Chloe’s far too penetrating gaze.

‘Dan?’

Dan drops the pot.

‘I kissed him,’ he blurts, swivelling to face her. ‘Or well, he kissed me! We kissed each other! On the mouth!’ He adds, stupidly. ‘And I- oh God.’ He throws up his hands and buries his face in it, knotting desperate fingers in his hair. ‘And- _Christ_ Chloe, this feels like I’m twelve years old and going to confession after my first wet dream. About the _devil_.’

He makes a half inchoate dolphin noise of despair into his hands before peeking out a look in Chloe’s direction, vaguely anticipating her wrath.

Chloe looks unimpressed and Dan cringes before catching the corners of her lips turning up.

Oh great, she doesn’t hate him. No, she’s just _laughing at him_.

That’s just great.

Dan’s face heats up and he stares at her. ‘I wanted to do more,’ he mumbles into his fingers, vaguely numb and horrified. ‘That’s…’ he pauses. ‘That’s bad, right? And not just because of the bond. He has _so much_ going on in his life right now, what with his brothers just _turning up_. Did he tell you about Moriarty or whatever his name is? Dude’s a jackass.’

Chloe blinks, looking torn somewhere between what looks like schadenfreudian amusement at his suffering and confusion.

‘Wait, Moriarty? Like… Sherlock Holmes?’

So that’s why that popped up in Dan’s mind. He lowers his hands at last and leans against the counter, fidgeting with the coffee pot. ‘Uh, no… um.’ He searches his mind for the name. ‘Murrel? Muriel? Like the goat.’

‘Like… the goat.’ They stand in silence for a moment while Dan tries to remember where that association came from - probably his Nanna, wait no, wasn’t that the goat from _Animal Farm_? Oh yeah, he’d watched that with Trixie that one time thinking it was an cute albeit old kid’s cartoon... before the murder and socialism tipped him off. But before he can explain this all to Chloe - who looks like she’s questioning her taste in ex husbands more and more with each passing second - she clears her throat.

‘Thanks for the erm, update, Dan. About the… goat?’ She frowns. ‘About Lucifer - I’ve been meaning to tell you guys. Have you been having any weird nightm-’

‘Daniel!’ Lucifer says, bursting into the breakroom and grinning with a disturbingly feral sort of look that Dan is certain bodes _great_ things for Dan’s immediate future. ‘I do hope that your shredding machine is _supposed_ to be on fire.’

‘My _what_?’ Dan slams down the coffee pot and rushes out of the kitchen, oblivious to Chloe’s face falling. Well, that ends that conversation.

-

In Lucifer’s defense, it’s only a _small_ fire. How was he supposed to know that wobble-headed dolls didn’t go in a paper shredder? Something had to accompany Dan’s report.

Lucifer wouldn’t want it to be _lonely_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Dan's Lloyd report.
> 
>  
> 
> Remember to hop on twitter and #SaveLucifer, y’all. Let’s fight for our favourite Devil and friends - and for the amazing cast and creators who brought them to us. <3


	36. Not a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-- This is not an update, please read the author's notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is… not an update. Well, it is an update but not for BFF. It has been a few months, as you’re probably aware, and we are very sorry for the wait. There are a lot of reasons for the delay. It kind of started when Lucifer got cancelled, because accrues turned her heart off in preparation of being crushed, and it kind of just sat there. Then she was in Europe for a month, then there was HELL ON EARTH for Erya (which continues, to some degree) and a similar hell period is happening for accrues as well. 
> 
> We love this story and we want to be back as soon as we can. It is written, we promise. The trouble is, it’s all evolved a little bit since we first wrote it out and now it needs… changes. And some stuff so that it makes sense. So we hope you stick with us - we’re going to get it done whether we have 0 readers or 100 but we’d prefer company on this bus to hell. The near future is dicey though because who would have thought that two PhDs, plus full-time work, plus mutual disabilities would leave us time poor? So we hope… at least by October but hopefully sometime before then.
> 
> So please accept this timestamp porn that accrues wrote under the influence a year ago. It’s set somewhere closely after the story concludes but it isn’t an epilogue. It’s more of a…this is how a possible pornilogue might fall out - with only vague references to future plot events that hopefully make you intrigued rather than confused. And no spoilers. Probably.
> 
> We make no promises that this will be in-story canon. Good luck trying to figure out which bits are going to be real. >:D
> 
> accrues and Erya

Lucifer is, Dan decides, entirely made for sex. 

It’s not a new revelation, but after _everything_ , after the collar fell away and those magic white wings sprang out of his shoulders, it hits him with an entirely new intensity. It’s so wrong that Hell is forever going to be linked with Lucifer’s name, because as Dan sees it, Lucifer is the _opposite_ of Hell. He’s something of a reigning authority on the subject.

Lucifer doesn’t taste like ash. He tastes of soap and a little bit of sweat. He’s on his back, and Dan is kneeling by his hips, licking at his abdomen and tasting, tongue swirling in the small patches of hair. Chloe is straddling Lucifer’s head, and keening with the activities of Lucifer’s tongue. Shit, Dan is hard. He uses his left hand to touch himself, the other hand reaching for Lucifer’s very erect cock.

Lucifer shudders, and Chloe _moans. Jesu-_ no, Lucifer had been very strict about inappropriate name calling before they’d started this. ‘No triune godheads in bed.’

Given what he’s most recently learned, Dan thinks this is probably fair enough.

Aside for the shudder, Lucifer has gone very still, and Dan smirks, leaning back over and licking again, trailing his way down to where his dick, heavy and thick, is wrapped up in Dan’s fingers. Dan licks at the exposed head and shaft, then takes what he can in his mouth.

It’s the first time he’s done this in literally a decade - it’s only been girls, it’s only been _Chloe_ for so long, but it’s a bit like riding a bicycle really. A little bit wobbly to start, but muscle memory eases the way.

Lucifer is writhing in the sheets, and Chloe is screaming with her orgasm in response to whatever Dan is making Lucifer do. It feels good, it feels _right_ , that there is this chain reaction, that after all these months of Lucifer being bonded to Dan, he can make Lucifer feel something _good_ instead of pain- can pass that on to their lover.

Their. Lover. Because they are all lovers, equal share.

He reluctantly releases Lucifer’s dick, and walks on his knees up to Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer’s arms are wrapped around Chloe, hands settling on her hips in a loving embrace.

Dan reaches up to take Chloe’s shoulders- she’s starting to crumple, coming down from her orgasmic bliss, and he catches her in his arms as she falls backwards. Lucifer’s face is drenched, but he just grins up at Dan and stretches lazily despite Chloe’s weight. ‘Who’s next?’

‘You,’ Dan growls, and helps Chloe to the side. She smiles back at him, and pulls at the bed sheet so it comes loose. None of them are actually using it, so she drapes it over herself in a makeshift blanket and grins.

‘Come on guys, don’t make me wait- I want a show!’ She’s still bare from the knee down, and Dan watches as she stretches out her toes, rolling her ankles.

Lucifer has propped himself up on the bed head and is in the process of using a pillowcase to wipe his face. ‘My turn,’ he echoes once he’s done, throwing the cloth to the ground.

Superhuman strength is the only explanation for what happens next- maybe flight has a sneaky hand in it too, though Dan thinks maybe he only imagines the soft sound of those wings. However it happens, he finds himself pinned to the bed, suddenly, those strong hands wrapped around his forearms and holding him down. Lucifer is straddling his hips, and leering at him. ‘Mine,’ he declares suddenly, and Dan nods.

‘Sure, of course. You and Chloe, both.’

Chloe makes a noise to the side of Dan’s head, and he turns to look at her beaming, sated face.

Apparently satisfied that Dan isn’t going to move his body, Lucifer relinquishes his grip on Dan’s arms, and rocks forward to trace a line down Dan’s throat with one finger. Dan shivers, can almost feel the metal of a collar where Lucifer is now tracing across his adam’s apple.

Adam’s apple. He laughs, and Lucifer grins down at him. ‘Hmm?’

‘Adam’s apple,’ he shares, almost hysterical. ‘Forbidden fruit?’

‘Hmm,’ Lucifer says again. ‘Are you really? There is something rather more… Unholy about you than Divine.’ He smirks and rubs a thumb against the pulsepoint of Dan’s throat.

_No_ , Dan thinks. _I was talking about you_. But then Lucifer is kissing him, teeth scraping at his lips and tongue trying to work its way inside Dan’s mouth. Dan opens, taking a needed gasp of oxygen - _some_ of them need to breathe - and kisses back with ferocity.

‘Fuck me,’ he finally pants out against Lucifer’s lips, and the angel pulls back enough to raise an eyebrow.

To the side, Chloe makes a small squeaking noise, and Dan can see a flush creeping at her neck, even as she curls lazily amongst the covers to watch the proceedings. Her lower lip is tucked between her teeth and the skin is turning white under the pressure.

‘Are you sure,’ Lucifer questions, snapping Dan’s attention back, and Dan nods enthusiastically. His dick is pounding, damn, Chloe’s lips, and Lucifer’s… _Luciferness_.

‘Yes, yes, just _g_ \- fucking _Lucifer, do it_.’

‘You can always curse the stars you know,’ Lucifer says conversationally, one hand still cupping the back of Dan’s neck, his thumb on the hollow of Dan’s throat. ‘They’re _mine_. Just like you.’

‘Just like me,’ Dan repeats dully. Lucifer presses gently with his thumb, then swipes it down and lifts his hand.

‘We need to be careful,’ Lucifer says as he climbs off Dan to open a drawer somewhere. He comes back with two different types of lubricant and a string of condoms. ‘Do you have a preference?’

‘Jesu-’ Lucifer raises his eyebrow again, and Dan clenches his jaw. ‘ _Stars_ , Lucifer, no I don’t have a preference, just get _back here_.’

Lucifer grins and drops his loot on the pillow not currently occupied by Chloe. ‘I can help,’ she finally pipes up. ‘We’ve done this before.’

Dan can’t help himself, he goes red. 

‘Have you now,’ Lucifer purrs, looking delighted. ‘Well then, _Detectives_ , you hadn’t shared _that_ with the class.’

Dan can hear Chloe laughing, and he rubs a hand over his face. ‘Damn it, Chloe.’

‘Now now, let’s not damn Chloe _too_.’ Lucifer climbs onto the bed (or does he? Dan blinks and he misses the movement. It’s the swaying of the curtain that does it- damn Lucifer and those fucking _wings_ ) and offers that grin down to Dan.

‘Do us the honour, love?’ He passes a bottle of KY over Dan’s head to Chloe, and resumes his previous position, straddling Dan’s hips.

‘Not sure I can get in there with you like that,’ Chloe says drily and Lucifer huffs.

‘Fine,’ he sighs, and, once she’s moved off the bed, steals her place on the pillow. ‘Mmm, I missed silk.’ He wrinkles his nose at Dan. ‘ _Ermine_ ,’ he says feelingly, and Dan chokes back a laugh.

‘Ermine?’ Chloe laughs, and Lucifer growls. The sheets wrap themselves around his waist, hiding his cock, and Dan tuts, disapprovingly. Luckily, Chloe is over him, tits beautifully light, her nipples dusky. They’d changed, since Trixie. Not better, not worse, just different. He’d had to explore her body again once the pregnancy was over, thoroughly. Now, he gets to do it again, with Lucifer.

‘Ermine.’ Lucifer confirms. ‘Do you know how difficult it is to get _fluids_ out of ermine?’

‘Not that there were any fluids,’ Dan says hastily. Jesus- (oh well, what Lucifer doesn’t know won’t hurt him) he’s still so eager to prove he’s never taken advantage of Lucifer’s submission, as if the dubious consent to sex was the one and only marker of his soul. He knows his soul is black, has been assured by the heavenly forces _personally_. It matters though. It _matters_. He may have killed people, and he definitely shouldn’t have done that, but he would _never_ take sexual advantage of anyone.

‘No, no thanks to you,’ Lucifer grumbles, and Chloe lifts Dan’s leg.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ Dan cries. Chloe’s finger is _cold_ , or maybe it’s the lube that is. Either way, it makes him tense, in a way that he knows is unhelpful. They have done this before, after all.

He doubts Lucifer’s cock is going to be anything like Chloe’s purple silicon dick, but the process is the same, regardless.

Lucifer reaches over and strokes a line down Dan’s face, from the corner of his eye down to his jaw. ‘You’re very pretty, you know,’ he says. ‘I don’t know if I’ve told you that.’

‘N-’ Dan starts to agree- or disagree? Which is it? He doesn’t know- when Chloe slides in a second finger along with the other. She doesn’t move, just lets them sit there, and he breathes, in and out through his nose, eyes closed.

‘You good, Dan?’ Her voice is gentle, concerned. He nods emphatically.

‘Just-’ he breathes out a long sigh and opens the eyes up to see Lucifer’s dark, warm eyes. ‘Kiss me?’

Lucifer smiles and leans in for the kiss, gentle this time, sucking in Dan’s upper lip. ‘Ask and ye shall receive,’ he murmurs. Dan can just imagine the smirk, too busy focusing on Lucifer’s mouth and the fingers in his ass.

‘Move your fingers, Detective,’ Lucifer issues the order and _fuck_ Dan is never going to be able to go back to work now, not when his superiors, and the bullpen, and every fucking scumbag criminal calls her that.

The movement distracts him, and he can feel something pulsing in that general vicinity. It’s been a while since they’ve done this- less time than he’s sucked dick, but their separation had been long enough. He curls his toes as she moves somewhere close to his prostate and scissors at his opening.

‘Hmm,’ she muses. ‘What do you think, Lucifer?’

Lucifer shifts - to peer down at her handiwork, Dan assumes. ‘May I?’

Dan can’t see them, is too busy staring at Lucifer’s fucking stone ceiling to care. There’s movement, then Chloe’s fingers slide out, and he feels _open_ , not necessarily empty, but loose. Ready.

The finger that slides inside him now is bigger, and- Lucifer’s wearing his signet ring. Fuck. He’s panting now, has at some time moved his hand to wrap it around his cock. Shit.

There’s another finger, and it burns a little more, his pianist fingers so much longer and thicker than Chloe’s, but not too much. Necessary, if Dan’s any judge of what god gave Lucifer.

_God is my judge_ , he laughs again, helplessly. He’d been told that he wasn’t worthy of that name. Dan thinks it’s just fucking perfect.

‘Ready, Daniel?’ Lucifer’s _voice_ is like silk, never mind the sheets. Dan takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly.

‘He’s nodding,’ Chloe reports - is Lucifer not looking? - and then Lucifer is sweeping Dan up so that his legs part around Lucifer’s torso, and there’s the dull head of a cock at Dan’s entrance.

‘Come on, come on,’ Dan chants. ‘Push in.’

Lucifer huffs a snort, and then there’s movement again, and Chloe comes into view just as Lucifer moves.

‘Chloe jesus, fuck, fuck oh fuck-’

Chloe presses her pretty lips to his, her hair falling in his face.

‘None of that,’ Lucifer chides from- from behind Dan, he’s inside him.

‘Fuck you,’ Dan says, coming away from Chloe’s lips. There’s no smart retort from Lucifer about fucking _Dan_ , and Dan soon finds out why when he feels his prostate react. Lucifer was concentrating.

The slick slide of it, the feeling of warmth against a resisting passage and then it hits that spot again and sparks fly in Dan’s eyes and his skin turns electric, hair standing up. Lucifer is god-damned devine and he’s lined up inside Dan, moving at a steady pace while Dan just makes gasping noises.

‘Come on, Daniel,’ Lucifer croons, and Dan tries unsuccessfully to clench around him, moving with the rate of Lucifer’s thrusts. 

His back rubs along the gentle weave of the silk sheets as Lucifer slams home, rocking athletically with his hips, abdominal muscles flexing with the movement. Dan can barely stand to watch, it’s overwhelming. 

His hand moves at a more frantic pace to keep time with Lucifer’s rocking, and he can feel the burn both inside him and in the friction along his dick. His slick can’t keep him up, he wants some more lube but he can hardly move, it’s almost too much. But then there’s a sudden pulse at his prostate as he clenches around Lucifer, and a few motions later he’s at the edge too.

‘Damn it, _LUCIFER_ ,’ he finds himself shouting, and he jacks at his dick, fervent and needing release.

‘Better,’ he barely hears Lucifer’s comment because he’s coming, brain fritzing. Inside him, Lucifer is letting go too with a brief sting. Chloe’s there somewhere, kissing at Dan’s cheek, and whispering filth about how he looks, hips up and legs wrapped around Lucifer.

The wave crests and crashes, and he’s writhing, twisting around Lucifer and digging in his heels. There aren’t any scars on his back any more. Dan makes a determined note to leave some marks of his own.

‘Chloe,’ he finally gasps, cursing himself. ‘I wanted to-’

Chloe steals another kiss and shakes her head. Her hair tickles at his cheeks. ‘I’m good,’ she laughs. ‘Lucifer has a serpent’s tongue.’

‘Oi,’ Lucifer complains. Dan can feel him slide out, is suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of exhaustion and satiation. He’s leaking lube a little, too, but he finds he doesn’t really care.

‘And I may have come just watching you guys,’ she admits without any shame. Lucifer lowers Dan’s legs down gently, and Chloe presses up against one side of Dan.

‘Shove,’ Lucifer commands, from somewhere to Dan’s left, and Dan rolls to his right, where there’s empty space. His head hits the abandoned bottles of lube, face pressing against the strip of condoms, and he pushes them off the pillow irritably. 

The bed dips, and he turns to see Lucifer lying down beside Chloe.

‘Mm,’ she says. ‘I always did wonder what this would be like.’

Dan grins. So did he.


	37. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tries to relax and Chloe enjoys a night in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sidles in* *coughs discreetly*  
> Terribly sorry for the delay! It feels like only yesterday we were last editing this. Tempus fugit, etc. Blame Erya (it’s generally her fault). Suffice to say that life continues to be… interesting but hey, nearly at the holiday finish line! :D
> 
> Please see attached an early holiday-celebration-of-your-choosing pressie for your delectation and delight? *blinks endearingly*
> 
> Enjoy! :D We hope to have another one out before the year’s end. :P
> 
> Love,
> 
> a&E (aka. accident and emergency)

_Blue mist swirls around her, specks of grey floating before her eyes and through it she can see cold granite and more grey and - with a jolt, she_ remembers.

_She’s been here before. And last time, didn’t-_

_The world around her swirls again, almostly dizzily, rushing her through corridors and doors and - are those chains? - and then she’s in huge empty space, like an enormous lobby or theatre and at the end is a throne._

_And the figure on the throne -_

_‘Lucifer.’ She gasps, and the word seems to echo and echo but he doesn’t look up._

_The world swirls around her, causing him to blur, leaving her with only impressions or colour and feeling: Lucifer looking worn, face turned down and disconsolate, neck bare above a loose white shirt she’s never seen on him before and behind him, fanning out -_

_Wings. White and pure, almost glowing in the mist._

_Feeling dazed, almost yearning, she drifts closer as unreal and as insubstantial as the whorls of blue between them._

_She’s never seen them before, his wings, only the pale facsimiles for sale in an underground auction, but seeing them now, seeing him now, all of him -_

_She calls his name again but to no avail, watches as he shifts his wing forward, long fingers trailing slowly across a stray bent pinion, something lost and numb in his features causing her to ache._

_She drifts forward, stretches out a hand to cup his cheek, unsure if this is real but wanting, so badly, to comfort-_

_And his head jerks up, eyes -_

_And then the world swirls away from her again, tugging her away and she’s in another room and there’s a man there, tall and dressed in ancient finery, blond hair gleaming dully in the sparks of light, mouth is quirked cruelly upwards and -_

_At his feet kneels another man, dark head bent in defeat something grey and dark closed around his neck like a collar -_

_And she gasps -_

_And his eyes jerk up, meeting hers, a familiar dark rich brown and -_

She’s awake, gasping for air, heart hammering and filled with an unnameable, unspeakable ache. 

_Lucifer._

-

 _Lucifer_ is just settling into the welcoming plushness of his bed after a long day of laying waste to Daniel’s workplace (accidentally! Well, in-so-far as Daniel can prove).

He scrubs at his stubble irritably, hunting for any stray remnants from the blasted sticky face-mask he’s just yanked off. Damn the Detective’s non-pharmacological recommendations for relaxation. ‘Oh you should try these, Lucifer,’ he mimics sarcastically to himself as he scratches grumpily. 

‘The lavender is calming, Lucifer,’ he mocks in a high-pitched voice as he yanks up the covers. ‘Come on, trying something other than drugs can’t hurt, Lucifer.’ 

He lets his voice trail off with something that is definitely not petulance and flops his head down onto satin pillows, wincing as his skin tingles. Could he be allergic to that flower-scented nonsense? He’s heard of allergies before - even inflicted them as Hellish punishments once or twice. Could he now be so vulnerable to succumb to such? He shudders.

Well, he’s not falling for that again. He’s still got water at the seam of his damn collar, thank you very much. He scratches at it, too. 

He’s just warming to his rant - Honestly, what’s wrong with a splash of opium? Call him old-fashioned but the mellow is well worth it and cheaper than some bubble baths he’s tried- when his cellphone buzzes on the bedside table.

Speak of the - well. The Detective’s fair face appears on the screen, an old photo where he’d barely managed to snap a shot, her scowl chiseled deep into her forehead.

Irritation at facial care notwithstanding, he swipes to accept the call and purrs a little as he answers. ‘ _Hello_ Detective.’

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe’s voice sounds thready, a little like the connection from cell tower to his ear is patchy. He cranes his neck a little, unwilling to rise from bed but hoping to get a better connection. The pillows either side of his head slide around a little with his movement, soft against his newly emancipated skin.

‘Detective, is something the matter?’

‘I-’ she pauses and he swaps the cellphone from one ear to the other, idly watching the light flash against the wall as it comes to life with nothing to block the sensor. ‘I had a dream, it-’

Bloody Morpheus. You do the being a favour and he still insists on this nonsense. There’s a spell for that, he thinks but- no. That didn’t end well last time. The moral of the story, Lucifer supposes grumpily, is that creepy old spell books rarely lead to much good. In retrospect, he probably should have considered that before entwining himself forever with the local douche.

‘Hush,’ he soothes a little gently. ‘The Dreaming has no hold over you, darling.’

‘I saw you on a throne,’ she says distantly, like she’s not even listening to him. Her voice is eerily calm, a mute over her usual sweet tones. ‘No- at the foot of the throne. There was a collar around your neck, and-’

Cold washes down Lucifer’s spine and he has to shudder for a second, thinking no, thinking not that, not her. His bare toes kick against the slippery softness of his bedsheets and he feels nausea rush through him at his inability to find purchase. 

There’s no sound but the soft panting of her breath at the other end of the line. ‘Lucifer?’ She sounds a little confused. ‘What- were we talking about something? Sorry I must have…’ she trails off. ‘I should be asleep. I don’t know why I called.’

He swallows, has to flush his dry mouth before he can speak, but even as he does so, he hears the line go dead.

He stares at the phone in his hand. Dread pools in his stomach as his own false assurances to Michael of her safety ring in his ears.

Oh _that_ bodes well.

-

He makes it to her within twenty minutes flat. 

The traffic is barely a thought, other than for Lucifer to damn it and every blasted loitering Los Angelian denizen in his path (is it just him or are the annoying plodders somehow _slower_ than usual? It’s almost enough for him to suspect Amenadiel’s up to his old tricks) and only being hailed by one irritating cop (easily dissuaded by a smile Lucifer refuses to consider as anything other than unhurried and a minor monetary contribution barely in the low thousands) for his flagrant disregard the those silly speed “law” things. 

Cursing as he easily manoeuvres the Detective’s (alarmingly simple) security precautions, Lucifer charges in, ready to fend of all manner of dangers. He can practically sense it, that lingering, mostrous stench of the unholy, of _Hell_ , rankling on his last nerve, if something had _hurt_ her, if the Crown had-

‘Detective!’ He cries, rounding the sofa where he can see a dark form huddled -

\- only to find Chloe blinking up at him, spoon half-raised to her lips and heaped with cereal.  
They stare at each other. 

A stray mote of Kornflake Krumble ( _‘Good for your bones!’_ ) teeters of the edge of the plastic cutlery, before falling to the depths of the the Detective’s fuchsia pyjama-clad lap. 

In front of them, the TV impotently blasts infomercials on mute, the light flashing in alternating washed out and vivid colours. A cartoon cat features. It’s all remarkably reminiscent of one particular chap’s hell loop.

Lucifer blinks. Hideous cat aside, this is not precisely the horrors he had been imagining after that phone call. 

‘Detective?’ 

‘Lucifer?’ Chloe frowns bemusedly, spoon lowering. ‘What are you doing here?’

Lucifer, clad in what he belatedly realises in his haste are _horrendously_ mismatched teal shirtsleeves and, of all things, checked blue suit trousers, folds his arms with a hint of embarrassment. 

‘Me? I thought - you - that call.’ He stops, feeling unaccountably discombobulated, unease still gnawing at him. ‘Are you alright?’ He half-blurts. 

Chloe blinks at him, finally setting down her bowl. ‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’ Her confusion suddenly gives way to vague suspicion. ‘Wait, has something happened?’ 

The words ‘something else’ and ‘again’ and ‘that you haven’t told me’ goes unsaid but floats around the room with a unspoken loudness that even Lucifer, once given such sterling reviews from his psychiatrist as ‘remarkably oblivious’ and (once, when tipsy) ‘why do I work with you’, notices. 

He does not precisely shuffle guiltily, but it’s a near thing. The silence causes Chloe to frown, something worried and slightly suspicious in the furrows of her forehead. 

But Lucifer, still feeling off-kilter, hovers. ‘Are you quite sure you’re alright?” He asks, feeling unable to quite let it go, the sound of her voice, distant and reedy still in his ear.

It comes out as hoarser than he’d thought, almost frightened, and something in Chloe’s face tells him she reads it on him.

Chloe frowns, and then Lucifer makes a very undignified noise - not that he would admit it under pain of torture - as something soft and sleepy brushes against his leg.

‘Lucifer?’ The small creature peers up at him under heavy-lidded eyes, one hand clutching the fabric of his hideously mismatched trousers. ‘Are you scared?’

Lucifer glares at her. ‘The devil doesn’t get scared,’ he sniffs, and Chloe makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff.

‘Sure,’ a voice says from another corner. He spins, somehow still not managing to detach the small limpet, and Maze is there, strutting forward to the kitchen. She picks up Chloe’s abandoned bowl and shovels a spoonful into her own mouth.

He goes to scowl at her too, only to blink. 

Something demonic. Something unholy. The stench of Hell.

 _Oh_.

He sinks into the sofa, suddenly feeling a tad foolish. The spawn detaches suddenly and runs over to Maze’s side.

If some denizen of the underworld - other than Mazikeen that is - had darkened the detective’s doorway, then surely she would have noticed. Who better to defend Chloe than the greatest warrior Hell ever knew. Perhaps - just perhaps - he had overreacted.

Except - he frowns - the collar. And Chloe’s dreams… 

Watching them front his front row seat on the sofa, observing as the Detective ruffles the spawn- _Trixie’s_ hair, while Maze smiles (!), something eerily like fondness in tilt of her mouth, Lucifer is left feeling cold, as though locked outside in the dark, helplessly watching the warm scene, separated by the lingering icy fear clouding his thoughts and - 

Devils don’t get scared indeed. 

Expressionless, he watches, knuckles white as unconsciously he digs his fingertips into the arms of the sofa.

That Crown, it had to be - it’s the only link between Chloe and the underworld. 

Well. Beside himself- and this bond with Daniel. 

He wishes it never had to touch her, that _he_ had never-

His jaw clenches, lost in misery.

He truly is terrible, a curse to everything he touches and lov- _damning_ both Daniel and now, stars, now even… Chloe. 

Well. Perhaps he should just go back to Lux. Find some non-facemask related relief. Save Chloe from his endlessly harmful presence. 

He clears his throat. ‘Detective. I’ll,’ he looks at the kitchen, where Maze is “playing” with Beatrice, in a way that makes the child growl like a tiny hellhound, at Chloe who looks like she’s dithering between pulling Maze away and laughing uncontrollably.

All safe and happy and entirely unneeding of -

Lucifer carefully adjusts his cuffs. ‘Well,’ he says, to himself. ‘I suppose I should be off.’ 

He pulls himself up to his feet and sends another glance toward the kitchen, feeling for a moment that he’s awaiting _something_ but unsure of what precisely. He looks away from the domestic scene. ‘Right,’ he murmurs. ‘Okay.’

As he closes the door, he thinks he hears a soft query but he walks back into the streets, already lost in old memories - and new fears. 

And from the warmth of her sitting room, the playful shrieks of her little favourite monster - and Maze - ringing in her ears, Chloe frowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your summer and/or winter!


End file.
